


One for the road

by obsessivewriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Best Friends, Bucket List, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Laughter During Sex, Music, Past Character Death, Terminal Illnesses, classic musician, guitar player - Freeform, luthier - Freeform, stringed instruments craftsman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivewriter/pseuds/obsessivewriter
Summary: As a survivor, Arya always knew she was living on borrowed time, five years in remission she had done almost everything on her bucket list until her time ran up.That time is up now and there is only one thing she never got to experience: falling in love.Gendry will do anything for his best friend, and really how hard could it be to fall for someone you already love?





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, doing this, maybe it is a huge mistake, but wtf.
> 
> I am going to ask for you to suspend belief. I have no medical training, beyond having lost a parent to the big C.
> 
> I promise this will not have a tragic ending. There will be fluff, smut, angst and lots of humor because that's just how I roll.

[ ](https://imgur.com/mHZ9dSV)

"Honey, I'm home!" Gendry yelled in the same joking way he and Arya would every time one arrived at their shared apartment.

The joke would continue as whoever was in would always reply with an overly dramatized_ 'And what sort of time do you call this?'_

Unexpectedly, Gendry was greeted by silence, even when he could see the back of his best friend's ponytail slumped against the sofa.

He walked to the small living room and sat on the ottoman opposite where Arya was seated. Her body slumped against the pillows; eyes open but staring at the ceiling, her left leg twitching.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Why must something be wrong?" She replied, lifting her head and pulling her legs in so she could place her chin over her bent knees.

"Well, I'm fluent in Arya Stark's moods, and right now you look like you are itching to take off any minute, so something must have gotten seriously tits up and spooked you. Let's save us the grief and just tell me."

A tight coil broke within her, and all the pent up energy that had her ready to leap left her body.

Her mind had finally crashed against the signs she had been ignoring for weeks. When she fainted in the middle of rehearsal earlier that day, Syrio forced her to go to A & E. They had drawn her blood, and now the piece of paper with her abnormal results laid crumpled at the bottom of her bag.

She didn't wait.

She had already decided what she would do when her leukemia returned, the decision made years before.

It was not a question of _'if'_ but _'when.'_

"It's not a big deal," she said still unsure if she'd share her news with him.

"It is if it gets you like this," he reassured her by placing his hand on her knees.

_'He's going to figure it out soon,'_ she thought, _'and he will be furious if you don't tell him.'_

But perhaps he could understand her decision, and support her. Gods knew that her siblings would not.

Not Sansa, that much was for sure.

Sansa who against all the odds had been the right match.

_'The gods must be mad,' _she had thought, for having Sansa, who despite being her sister didn't seem to share any sort of genetics with her, except of course for the lifesaving bone marrow she gave her amidst their family's tragedy.

Arya took a deep breath and spoke her truth.

"It's back," she confessed.

"What's back?" Gendry asked in confusion.

His sincerely dumbfounded face irked her to the point of explosion.

"Winter!" she yelled, "you're such an idiot! What do you think? I'm no longer on remission!"

Her words punched him right in the gut, and he felt all air leave his lungs. Just like it did that night next to his mother's bed when she stopped breathing and time stood still.

"Arry."

"Don't say it. I've always known this moment was coming."

He had already been there. That wretched disease had once before stripped him of everything that tethered him to the earth.

Leaving him with only fury to fight his despair.

"When will you start the treatments again?" He asked after a moment.

He never took that poison, but he was there to see the doctors and the nurses slowly pumping it into his mother's body.

And soon after, into his best friend's.

He remembered the messiness of it, breaking him as he witnessed it. It wasn't fair that he felt traumatized for something he didn't suffer, but he did.

He would do it again, be there for her, as long as she was saved once more.

"I won't," she said quietly, and he doubted he had heard her clearly.

"What do you mean?"

"Last time it almost killed me. I won't go through that again."

"Last time it saved your life!" He yelled, standing up, ready to punch a wall.

"And my parents died, and Anna died."

The mention of his mother smartened Gendry's wound, the pain fresh, as if it had happened just minutes before, instead of seven years prior.

They had met at chemo, Gendry sitting next to his mother, and Arya with Catelyn, taking care of her. Every Wednesday without fail he'd see the tiny furious fifteen-year-old she had been, with the skull t-shirt and the short hair.

He recognized fury.

Fury was his friend.

As it was the friend of any of the poor souls who found their place in that room, taking the poison or witnessing impotently how it was fed to someone they loved.

He was nineteen.

Bigger than his peers of the same age, but clumsy, looking like a man, but desperately trying to cling to his mother.

They had become friends in that room, as their mothers became friends themselves. Fears not vocalized, but binding them.

A mother scared of leaving her child, another scared of losing hers.

One day she had asked him for the music he was listening, and he'd offered her one earphone.

They both had loved music.

He loved guitars and taught himself.

She had music lessons since she was four and a place waiting for her at the conservatory, as soon as she turned eighteen.

Until one day she had come to chemo with a murderous look, her aunt Lysa choosing to drop her off there and pick her up after. A nurse told them that Arya's parents had been killed in a car accident, which had also crippled her younger brother.

Turns out cancer doesn't give you a chance to grieve.

You still need your dose of poison every Wednesday at 3 pm.

Anna, Gendry's mother, had taken over reassuring her during her treatments, aching for the little girl who had to go through the same hell she did, mourning the mother that wasn't supposed to die.

And one day Arya arrived to see Anna's chair empty, and Gendry nowhere to be found.

She made her brother Jon take her to the funeral.

They were kindred now in their orphanhood.

The following Wednesday and every one after that Arya had a session he would be there, even when his mother was not. And he was there when she almost didn't make it. Next to all her siblings.

When it came to finding a bone marrow match, he was tested, just like her brothers and sister, even when he knew he wouldn't be one.

But her sister had been.

Three years of fighting and getting dangerously close to not making it, but at the age of eighteen, she beat leukemia. She took a year off to backpack on her own after that, sometimes meeting up with Jon in a distant and exotic place, sending postcards to Gendry, who collected them all.

No one could say no to her, knowing what she had gone through. No one could longer say no to her since she was an adult.

She'd gone to conservatory, majoring in the cello, while Gendry had gone into lutherie, learning how to repair and construct fine stringed instruments. He had excellent acoustic listening skills and was a lyrical guitar player. After going to a vocational school, he then took an apprenticeship with famed guitar maker Tobho Mott. And now, at 27, he made his living as a sought-after guitar specialist, who had a loyal list of serious musicians who trusted their instruments only to him. He ran his own little repair workshop, he mostly restored and repaired instruments, and managed to make two or three special custom ones a year as pet projects. He wasn't wealthy, but he could make a modest living doing something he was passionate about.

Arya was part of the city orchestra. To be honest, she made peanuts and had to teach music lessons on the side, but after her lot in life, she was determined to live as she wanted, convinced that there was not enough time for anything else. After her parents died, the trust fund Ned Stark had set up for his children had kicked in, and while she wasn't the average wealthy trust fund kid, Arya knew she had the privilege to do what she loved and not worry she wouldn't have a roof over her head or food on her table.

The only thing Gendry had gotten from his biological father, the rich fat fucker who had been with his mum only long enough to get her with child and nothing more, was his last name and a lump sum of money at the end of his life. He had his lawyers find him when Robert was close to dying and wanted to make amends. With that money and a bit that Arya had saved, they purchased a very modest two-bedroom apartment in the dodgy part of town and started living together. They had decided that the worst thing would be not having enough to pay rent, and so, the best investment for both would be to never have to worry about having to sleep rough.

And so they had been living together for the past two years.

And now she was telling him that she wouldn't get treatment again. And this time he would lose the only other person he had left.

"They didn't die because you got treatment," he explained.

"But I missed my time with them because I did."

"You cannot do this to me," he said, and he kicked himself internally for putting his feelings before hers.

"I am not doing this to you."

"Please, tell me you'll fight," Gendry pleaded, turning back to face her, and crouching by her side.

"I want to live."

"Then fight, and live," he said cradling the side of her face and making her look at him.

"I don't want to fight and miss out on everything again. Whatever time I have left, I want that," Arya said pointing at the massive board on the wall covered in the postcards she sent him and pictures of their lives together, "I want to get as much of life as I can, I want to eat, and laugh, and drink, and play music and sing. I don't want to spend whatever I have left puking my guts out."

"I cannot lose you," he pleaded.

"Then live with me," she urged him, covering the hand on her jaw with hers.

"I won't be able to change your mind, will I?" He finally accepted, choosing to sit down next to her.

"I don't know," she replied, looking down to see her fidgeting hands.

"Have you told your sister? Your brothers?" He asked, turning towards her.

"No."

"You know they won't like this."

"It's not their decision to make. This time I get to choose."

He took a moment to process her words.

"You are asking too much of me," he finally offered, without looking her way.

She turned sideways in her seat until her left knee was gracing his thigh.

"Hey, let's do this, just give me a month."

"For what?" He asked, looking, back at her.

"To process all this, to live."

"And then what?"

"And then I'll tell my siblings," she acquiesced.

"And go to your oncologist?"

"Maybe."

"Arya!"

She couldn't continue with this back and forth. She needed Gendry's support, and she would do whatever she could to get it.

"Best friend right," Arya said.

"Arya don't. It is not what that was for! You cannot use it for that. Please be serious."

"You know the rules, no questions asked."

"That was supposed to be for something else, like help you move, bail you out, give you an alibi. Fuck! I don't know, help you bury a body! That I would have expected of you."

"Not that different from burying a body."

"Don't you dare go there," fury was burning in his eyes.

"Fine. I won't joke about that. But I need you to support me on this. I need to live whatever life I have left on my own terms. Do you rather help me out not be part of it?"

He shook his head in disbelief.

"You are a cruel woman."

"You're only figuring that out now?"

"This is a hostage situation, but fine."

He saw her smile for the first time since she told him life as they knew it was about to end. And it was unfair, but her smile was his Achilles heel.

"Fine! What now then?"

"She got up and offered him her hand to pull him to his feet.

"Now, we drink," she said, walking to the kitchen and grabbing two beers from the fridge.

After opening them, she handed him one and hopped on the counter of the tiny center island, while he leaned against the sink facing her.

"Best thing about dying young, go," Arya demanded.

"You are so morbid," Gendry declared, shaking his head.

"If that is news to you, you are a bigger idiot than I thought. Come on, you are breaking the rules. Help me with this, what is an upside to dying young?"

Gendry grimaced as he scratched the back of his head, following the rules.

He went along just to check out from his emotions.

"Leaving a beautiful corpse?" He guessed, trying to say something that would impress her.

"Hmm, not going to happen, lots of scars already."

"Yes, we're going to believe you are not good looking."

"Don't start sugarcoating things, not dead yet, leave that for the eulogy."

"I am not!"

"Okay, my turn, not worrying about taxes."

"You've never paid taxes!"

"I have!"

"Your trust fund accountant does it, so then, it doesn't count."

"Okay then, not taking anyone to the airport anymore, not helping anyone move."

"So not helping me basically. Nice."

"Not being anyone's bridesmaid!" She yelled in excitement.

"Sansa is going to kill you for that one," he pointed out, tilting his beer towards her.

"It's okay. I'll be dead by then."

As much as he tried to disassociate the morbidity of their talk from the fact that their friendship had now an expiration date, her words had found the way to fill him with dread once more.

"How can you joke about that?" He finally asked unable to look her in the eye, and instead, fixating on the liquid inside the dark bottle.

"How can you not? Hey, this is supposed to help me. It's getting all those things out of the way."

"Let's think of something less morbid. How about your bucket list?"

"Been there, done that."

"Finished it?"

"I did. After finishing treatment and not dying, I did everything I could think of doing."

"Everything?"

"Yes, you were there for lots of things."

"And what I wasn't I got a postcard," he said, pointing to the board.

"You're welcome."

"So what does one do if they've completed their bucket list?"

"A fuck it list?" She suggested.

"What is a fuck it list?" He inquired, amused.

"I don't know, all the things you no longer worry about breaking the rules for since you are dying anyway? Like, robbing a bank."

"Using your mobile loudly at the cinema? Cutting a line?"

"Lame."

"Seriously, tell me something you haven't done. There has to be something."

Arya took a couple of minutes to think. She pretended she had to think about the only item she had never crossed from her list. The list that her therapist had forced her to make, with five hundred items that ranged from the simplest _'find a four-leaf clover'_ to the more ambitious _'see the aurora borealis.'_

Four hundred and ninety-nine items written in her teenage left-handed penmanship, all crossed out.

All but one single pesky item.

"There is."

"And?"

"You'll laugh at me."

"I laugh at you all the time, so out with it."

Why was it hard to say it when they had little boundaries in their friendship?

She wondered if it was because it seemed vain, or ludicrous, or weak.

Just thinking about it was making her scowl, and she could see that he was looking at her intently. He would find out anyway, and it would be worse the longer she took to say it.

"Falling in love," she finally said.

"You've fallen in love."

"Not for real. Not the once-in-a-lifetime,_ 'you are the love of my life' _sort of way. I never did that."

"You could still do that."

"What? Do the rounds at pubs looking for the love of my life? Join Tinder? I don't think so."

"It could happen. Maybe not in a meet-cute sort of thing."

"Meet-ugly then?" she asked with a smile, "sounds awful."

"There is still time to have one last romance, one last hooray."

"One for the road?" She offered, lifting her beer bottle along with her eyebrow, "nuh, not doing that in a rush. I'm doomed to not have a great love to mourn my death. People will have to lament that there is no handsome widower who they can hug and give condolences to."

"Ned Dayne will probably think it's him."

"Oh, fuck you! You had to go there?"

"You dated him."

"He took me to _one_ stupid school dance."

"Snogged him."

"I did not! He gave me once lousy goodnight kiss!"

"He will claim he was the love of your life anyways."

"Seven hells! You are right. You will have to set the record straight. Avenge my honor."

A chuckle caught in his chest, sounding more like a sad sob.

This was really happening, and he would be there, at her funeral.

The thought suddenly seemed real.

"It's okay I guess," she said, taking another sip from her beer, "I'm sure lots of people die without having truly fallen in love."

They were both silent for a few minutes, each nursing their own beer. Gendry's heart had been aching since hearing his best friend was once again battling a terminal disease. He could feel the despair and the sorrow from his own mother passing nipping at his ankles, and yet, her confession of being disappointed about not experiencing that kind of love squeezed his heart even tighter. Years later, he may try to explain his train of thought at that precise moment, but it wouldn't be easy, and he wouldn't be sure of how it happened exactly. At the end of the day, it came down to the care and love he had for his best friend, the fifteen-year-old girl who had been with him during the worst time of his life, while she was going through the same, who was now a twenty-three-year-old woman facing the end of the line.

The only thing he knew was that he would do anything to make real every whim she had.

And before he knew it, he was in front of her, taking her beer bottle out of her hands and placing it along with his own on the kitchen counter.

"Hey! I wasn't done with that," was all she got to say.

She would have said a lot more, but her mouth was now occupied with Gendry's kissing her like she had never been kissed before in her life.

The kiss had started desperate and unbridled, but then it had turned soft and slow. When they finally parted, both so dizzy that they had remained like that, eyes closed and foreheads touching for a moment.

"Not complaining, or anything, but why?" Arya asked out of breath, eyes still closed.

He opened his eyes then and leaned back a little to explain himself.

"I know it is not what you would have dreamed about, but, we could do this," Gendry proposed with a sheepishly smile.

"What, a pity fuck?" She asked, opening her eyes wide.

His best friend had always been direct and crass.

"No!" he yelled.

"No?" She asked, and he was horrified at seeing the rejection on her face.

"I mean, yes, maybe, for sure if you say yes to what I'm proposing, and if you want to."

"Be clear."

"I mean, you and I could fall in love."

"Pity romance then," she concluded tilting her head to the side.

He shook his.

"You deserve everything, and I would give you anything I could. We're best friends, and we already love each other, so how difficult could it be to fall in love?"

And there it was, her best friend.

She had no doubt that if she told him she was to rob a bank, he would ask her what getaway car he should get.

She would be lying if she said that there hadn't been moments, as they grew up, when she had wondered what would happen if they kissed, but it had never happened.

And it was fine.

She had lived those years focusing only on surviving and nothing more.

But now, her best friend was proposing they try to fall in love with each other.

"You're an idiot," she said, and for a moment he feared he had made a colossal mistake, "but yeah."

"Yeah?" he asked with a wide grin.

The goofy smile that he would always reserve for her.

"So, we're fucking?" She asked.

"In due time, if that is something you think you could do with me?" Gendry asked blushing slightly.

"You're not so bad to look at," she declared.

"I knew you'd been checking me out."

"Cocky."

"You bet," He replied with a wink.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya Stark loves new beginnings but she hates endings. She is addicted to first kisses and having had her first with Gendry, she is boldly going where she never went before: a first date with her best friend, and consciously attempting to fall in love in a completely self-aware way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pleased with where this fic is going. It took a while, but it is finally here. I really hope you liked it.

[ ](https://imgur.com/LR6cXjo)

Arya loved new beginnings.

She would never be able to tell if her fascination with new experiences had anything to do with the fact that she had been so close to dying and losing both her parents at such a young age, but the truth was that she loved the promise of starting something anew, the feeling of opening a brand new journal, of a morsel of food she had never tasted before. 

She particularly liked first kisses. 

Before almost dying, Arya only had one measly lackluster first kiss by Ned Dayne, who had taken her to a school dance. She had gone begrudgingly, forced by Catelyn during her first break in between rounds of chemo, her mother desperate to have the child who was rapidly slipping through her fingers experience life as much as she could.

The way popular culture romanticized first kisses baffled her: her first had sprung out of nowhere, wet and uncomfortable. Because of it, once in remission, she went on a quest for that mythical kiss, and in her gap year, the second kiss of her life had made her feel all the things that songs and films preached a first kiss should be.

And she was hooked. 

From then on, she made a solemn vow: to have more than her fair share of first kisses, and she was particularly proud of having lost count.

Arya was bad with endings though; a whole shelf of her bookcase was dedicated to beautiful journals that had no more than a couple of pages of writing on them. Her closet littered with boxes of materials of half-finished projects, all beautiful yarns, colorful tubs of paint and an infinite number of glass beads. She did not feel embarrassed for all her failed projects, for the graveyard of past whims and excitements gave her solace, imagining a distant future, where exhaustive archeological digs would tirelessly labor to reconstruct the identity of one Arya Stark.

Her bucket list, while difficult to write, was a dream to cross out, because every item was a new and brave thing to try, promise after promise of another tomorrow.

Because no one writes “Cancel all my utilities” on their bucket list.

A consequence of being addicted to starting new things was not following through, and Arya suspected she had never fallen in love because she hadn’t had any interest in second dates. She was convinced that what was known and safe was doomed to become boring.

It was all about the butterflies in the stomach.

The promise of another first kiss.

The night before, Gendry had kissed her for the first time, catching her unprepared. No time to feel that delicious tightening in the gut, the slow-motion approach, the vertigo of anticipating herself crossing a point of no return, sensing all the air in between two mouths disappearing.

Her first kiss with Gendry had been good. 

Scratch that.

It had been fantastic.

Once her brain had caught up, his lips were already ripping her breath away, his fingers cradling the back of her head, running through her tresses, warm against her scalp.

She had barely known the owners of all the lips she had kissed in her life, and she relished in the knowledge that they got from her only what she was willing to give. Her thoughts and dreams and fears kept tightly guarded, making sure that she remained an undecipherable mystery.

Kissing Gendry had been a new and wondrous thing, breathtaking and exhilarating, as every new kiss should be, but this was a man who knew every secret thing inside her mind and her heart. The thought made her feel vulnerable, it gave her that sinking feeling you get in a roller coaster ride, right before plummeting for the first time. 

It was a first kiss on steroids.

For the first time in her very short life, Arya found herself longing for something she never wanted: kissing someone a second time.

No, not someone.

She wanted to kiss Gendry a second time.

* * *

On Thursday afternoons, Arya taught music appreciation for preschoolers at the community center. It didn’t pay as much as the private music lessons for jaded teenagers on the posh side of town, but hearing their giggles and looking at their big smiles always reminded her why she loved music. She would place colorful masks over their eyes and go around the room playing silly instruments, while her students tried to follow the sounds, and make up movements inspired by the sounds they heard. For Arya, it was the best way to have her get home exhausted but utterly satisfied.

Arya loved the little kids, all of them just new stories being written, their sense of wonder still untouched.

Every Thursday evening when she arrived home, she and Gendry would go to the pub to grab a pint and something to eat, and she would recount all the curious stories her students had shared with her, and then they would walk back home and watch a game on tv or binge-watch the newest and quirkiest foreign show one of them had found, both of them trying to one-up each other with the most obscure one they could find on Netflix.

That particular Thursday was business as usual, with the small difference that she had decided to forgo any life-saving treatment for her returning ailment, and the minuscule detail that the previous night she had agreed to embark on the journey of falling in love with her best friend.

Her big grumpy best friend, who had proposed they tried to fall in love because he would move heaven and earth for her. After Gendry unexpectedly kissed her, they had looked at each other for a while with goofy smiles and blushing cheeks. And then they had ended up saying goodnight with a quick and awkward peck on the lips. 

As she turned the doorknob to her apartment and inhaled to call out the idiotic _“Honey, I’m home,” _she was distracted by the twilight ambiance that welcomed her, with hundreds of tiny flickering fairy lights strung around the modest flat. Gendry was there, in the kitchen, wearing a weird smile, a light gray blazer over a white button-down shirt, and a bloody black tie.

“What is happening?” She asked, feeling herself growing defensive.

“I’m taking you on a date,” he answered nervously with his hands behind his back.

“Where?” She asked, still eyeing her apartment with suspicion.

“I made reservations in that Essosi restaurant on the posh side,” Gendry explained, as he over gesticulated, giving away his fretfulness, “I know you loved the food when you were in Braavos. Called in some favors with one of my clients to get us in. We should be leaving soon if we want to make it, so you need to change.”

She quickly looked at herself, jeans and a ratty t-shirt, paired with bright red Chuck Taylors.

“I _need_ to change?” Arya asked, her left eyebrow rising defiantly.

“I mean, it’s a fancy place,” he ventured.

“So not a place for the likes of me?”

Gendry cursed in his mind. The date hadn’t started, and he had already fucked up.

“No, not at all. It’s just... Listen...” Gendry tried to explain himself, as he scratched the back of his head, “I wanted to do this right,” he sighed.

_‘Try something different,’ _a voice in his mind suggested.

“Look, I wanted to buy you flowers, but I know you, right? So I really put a lot of thought into this,” Gendry said, as he turned around to grab something he had set next of the sink, and he set it on the center island in between them.

“A cactus?” Arya asked in disbelief.

“I know you hate roses. And you think that the sunflower thing has been done to death in romantic comedies. And I know you hate how high maintenance orchids and violets are, so, I got you this.”

Her eyebrows were high on her forehead. 

It was not good.

He fucked up even further.

“Well, it’s different, and almost no maintenance at all,” he offered with a shrug.

“Because I am prickly like a cactus,” Arya deadpanned.

_‘Oh shit, keep it together Baratheon, fix this!’_

“No, well, when you want to be?” He shrugged.

_‘You fucking idiot.’_

“Stop it!” Arya yelled, pulling him from his inner monologue.

“Stop what?” Gendry asked, confused.

“This whole thing!” She yelled, pointing to the fairy lights.

“I just wanted to give you what you wanted!” Gendry shouted back, throwing his arms in the air in annoyance.

“You think this is what I wanted?!”

The disbelief in her voice was evident.

“You said you wanted a one-in-a-lifetime romance!”

“I didn’t say I wanted a Nicholas Sparks novel!”

“I have no idea how to go about this!” He yelled in defeat, setting his hands on the counter and letting his shoulders hang, along with his head.

“Shit, Baratheon! If this is your regular M.O. I have no idea how you’ve ever gotten laid,” the teasing tone of her voice made him raise his head suddenly.

“It is not, okay?!”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“I have no idea how to romance you!” 

“Well, start being you for starters!” Arya groaned, “let’s take a time out. Forget this is us. What would you have said if I came home from a date and told you I was surprised with fairy lights, and my date in a suit holding a cactus?”

Gendry sighed, “We’d mock him all night.”

The smile bloomed on her face.

“Go take off that stupid monkey suit, and we’ll go to the pub.” 

“How is that different from what we do on Thursdays?” He asked, unconvinced, but he was already walking towards his room.

“It’s not. And that’s the point.”

“Fine!”

* * *

“You’d tell me if this was a mistake, right?” Gendry asked as they walked side by side, his hands deep in his denim jacket pockets, looking at the wet pavement.

Arya stopped dead in her tracks at his question.

“Do you think this is a mistake?” 

Gendry turned when he noticed she had stayed behind. He could feel the dread pooling in his throat at her question.

“No. You?” 

“No.”

At her answer, he walked back until he was standing in front of her.

“I want to do this right for you,” he confessed, eyes fixed on the cuff of her military green jacket in between his fingers.

“Let’s think about this. What’s the point of a first date?” Aryas asked, looking up to him.

“To get to know the other person better,” Gendry offered, looking up.

“Make sure they’re not a twat,” Arya added, squinting with her left eye.

“Basically.”

“But we already know each other,” she continued, as she drew circles on the tiny puddles with her feet.

“So, what’s your verdict? Am I twat?” Gendry asked, making her look up at his silly face.

“No, you’re an idiot,” she declared with absolute certainty.

As they both laughed, he pulled her by her sleeve into a hug, and after releasing her, he continued walking holding her hand.

“Nice,” she said, looking at their intertwined hands, “looks like you do have some game after all, Baratheon.”

* * *

“Do you know that game where you look around in a restaurant or a café, and you have to try to guess if two strangers are on their first date or not?” Arya asked from her place in the booth, looking around their pub.

“Yeah,” Gendry answered as he signaled for the bartender for two pints.

“Do you think people know we are on our first date?”

“Every person in this pub knows us, and they know we are best friends, so no, I do not think anyone thinks this is our first date,” he quickly pointed out.

“You’re right. Do you think they ship us then?” Arya rephrased.

“_Ship us_?”

“Yeah, you know, like root for us to get together.”

“I know what shipping means,” He said, annoyed at the way she explained as if he were a complete moron.

“So do you think someone ships us?” Aryas insisted.

Gendry took a moment to think, and pursed his lips inadvertently.

“Davos.”

“Your uncle? Really? How did I not know that?”

“Yes, and I told you, remember? You must have been what? 17? He thought you were my girlfriend when he first met you.”

“That is not the same thing as shipping us, stupid.”

“It is if after clarifying that you were most definitely not my girlfriend, he keeps bringing it up every time I see him. He likes to tell me that my taste in women is shit, and I should be dating you instead,” he declared and took a swig from the pint that was just set in front of him.

“Your taste in women _is_ shit,” Arya stated with a shrug, and took a sip from her own pint.

“Joke’s on you since I do fancy you,” he pointed out with a wink.

“Fuck.”

“In due time, if I play my cards right,” Gendry added slyly.

Arya shook her head.

“Davos is Team Arya, good to know.”

“You have a team in the fight to win my affections?” He teased.

“Fuck you, I do not. Team Arya is about winning in life,” Arya explained, her eyes wide, making them look impossibly big.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Eating and drinking at a pub?” Arya asked, feigning innocence.

“Being so meta about this.”

“Aren’t all your dates like this?”

“They certainly don’t demand the blow-by-blow!”

Arya laughed.

“Poor choice of words.”

“Not my fault those women were boring and not self-aware enough,” she finally declared with a smile.

* * *

They walked back to their flat holding hands, both stunned at the electric feeling that the contact of their fingers spread through their veins.

Once home, they put on a Korean soap opera on Netflix, and sat close to each other on the sofa, Gendry taking an embarrassingly long time to find the way to put his arm around her in a way that seemed natural. 

It was not natural at all.

The voice in his head berating him the whole time, ‘_what are you, sixteen?!’_

Against her character, she didn’t make any comments, but instead, she put her head on his shoulder. They both watched without making a peep as if they were mesmerized by the story unfolding before them, but if someone had asked either one what the main plot was, or the names of the protagonists, they wouldn’t have been able to answer.

Arya didn’t notice when she dozed off, but Gendry’s fingers, gently massaging her scalp had roused her, coming to the intoxicating scent that was all him, her still fuzzy brain wondering idly when exactly Gendry’s scent had become intoxicating.

“Kids really took it out of you if you are falling asleep at the ungodly hour of 10:43 pm. You should head to bed.”

She obeyed without question, going around the sofa towards her room when she noticed Gendry standing up and following her.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m walking you to your door,” he replied sheepishly.

“It’s literally five steps away,” she pointed out, now fully awake.

“And what? Have you criticize me for not being gentlemanly enough to walk you to your door when Ned fucking Dayne did?”

“He wanted a kiss,” she explained matter-of-factly.

“And who says I don’t?” He asked, and she swore she could see the proverbial glint in his eye.

She felt it in her gut, that delicious eagerness she had chased across the narrow sea, placing imaginary pins in her mind’s map for every blessed place where she felt it. And so Arya reached out for him this time, pulling on the fabric of his shirt, forcing him to bend enough for her lips to capture his. It was her turn to catch him unprepared, with a kiss that held so much promise, a goodnight kiss, that after all, was just too short.

* * *

Arya awoke Friday morning to sounds coming from their kitchen. She walked towards the source following the delectable scent of coffee, as it beckoned her. 

“Good morning,” Arya greeted Gendry with eyes still blurry with sleep.

“Morning,” Gendry said back with a smile, still in the middle of his morning mad dash, grabbing his keys and a piece of toast when a ding announced that their pot of coffee was ready. He quickly set the keys down and put the piece of toast in his mouth so he could grab a couple of mugs and pour coffee in them. Once done, he set the carafe and toast down. He then walked towards Arya, chewing the piece of toast he had bitten before, holding a mug in each hand.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be rushing out?” She asked as she extended her hands prepared to receive the coffee, but not ready for the quick kiss on her lips. 

It was way too early to start blushing. And even earlier to have him notice.

Arya took a sip from the coffee to cover her face, burning her tongue in the process. Gendry caught the tint over her freckled nose and cheeks but turned away to give her a break from seeing his too smug smile. 

“Got a hot date with a vintage Gibson Les Paul in mint green,” he explained.

“Open-heart surgery or just your run-of-the-mill nips and tucks?” She inquired as she blew on the coffee.

“The works,” he replied with a huge grin, that carved deep lines around his eyes, creating the contradiction of a boyish look in an older man’s face.

“You lucky bastard.”

Gendry only gave an acknowledging shrug.

“I’m changing the pickups, checking and cleaning all switches, pot, and jack, and it needs a veneer repair; woodwork, paint, love, and care. It will take a long while, maybe a couple of months. But I can’t wait to get started.”

“Famous lady?”

“Can’t tell you who wields her yet, but yeah. We’re talking legendary.”

She went to the sofa and sat down, holding her coffee. 

“Just promise you’ll tell me eventually, and you’ll let me see her.”

“As if I could keep that from you.”

She only smiled and turned back to her mug.

“Okay, gotta run,” Gendry announced grabbing his keys, and walking towards the back of the sofa, he then bent down and placing his hand on her chin, he tilted her head slightly, just enough to set another quick kiss on her lips, “see you tonight.”

Arya had never looked forward to a second kiss, or a third, or a fourth for that matter, with the same set of lips. She had kissed a rainbow of them, pillowy ones carefully cared for with daily applications of lip balm, and chapped ones that were too rough but kissed like they had something to prove. She had kissed mostly blokes but had been privileged to the knowing mouths of women as well. Lips that kept their secrets tightly guarded, and ones that could be read as easily as open books.

But despite all the marvelous worlds new lips brought with themselves, Arya had convinced herself that a second kiss would be nothing but a doomed endeavor. She feared that kissing a mouth she had explored before would be just chasing after the unreachable electrifying experience of the first time.

No, she had never been enticed to kiss a pair of lips once more.

But as she sat on their sofa, one hand holding on to a rapidly cooling mug of coffee, and the other moving her fingertips over her lips, as if searching for the ghost of his, she found herself hypnotized, by the lowest of the low in the hierarchy of kisses: the simple peck on the lips.

And so, sitting cross-legged in their living room with her body tightly coiled in itself, she looked forward kissing Gendry a fifth time, and a sixth, and a seventh, and all the times that came after that until she could feel proud of herself for having lost count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next chapter things will get exciting, and I'm certainly eager for the fluff and the smut, but more than anything, for the detailed backstory of a Gibson Les Paul guitar.
> 
> Talk to me, here or on Tumblr, I'm a needy bastard.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya goes back to rehearsing and meets Gendry at his workshop. Gendry fears wounds opening and falling back into old ways to cope with the ache. Things heat up and promises are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took a long time, but I have not forgotten this fic. Now that The King and the Master of War is finished, I should be paying more attention to this AU. 
> 
> Thank you all who have taken the time to read and left a comment, it means a lot to me.
> 
> BTW I have to confess I committed self plagiarism. I took a little bit of dialogue from another fic of mine from the Fitzsimmons fandom that I sadly left unfinished. What can I say? That bit just won't leave my head.

[ ](https://imgur.com/qbI0nGF)

_'Life's a bitch, and then you die.'_

That had been Gendry's motto since he had become a teenager. Once the rosiness of childhood goggles had faded, he realized how hard his mother had it raising him alone, without a family of her own to help her and without any support whatsoever from the man who had biologically contributed to creating him.

Because there was no way, Gendry would call Robert Baratheon his father.

Robert had gone as far as signing his name on his birth certificate, and nothing more, to the extent that he hadn't even contributed with one lousy pack of nappies, not that Anna would have used that fact to make Gendry feel guilty. He just knew his mother had done the impossible to keep them afloat in a society that did not make many concessions.

And then Anna had been diagnosed, and everything had gone from pretty fucking shitty, to a Dickensian nightmare.

_'Life's a bitch, and then you die,'_ he would write in his school notebooks, a furious teen ignoring anything that wasn't music or his mum, flunking most of his subjects. But by the grace of a god he did not believe in, or by pure dumb luck, he had met Arya, and she had been his saving grace.

And now he was back at square one, blaming himself for having let his guard down for a minute, thinking that death was done messing with him. When Gendry's mother had died, he had traded all his heartache for pure unadulterated rage, and whatever grief had remained, he had shoved down deep into his chest, ignoring it. Life had been sort of livable just because of Arya and music, but anything else was dealt with unhealthy coping mechanisms.

He could feel them already, nipping at him, crouching on the corner of his eye, the grief and the fury. So far, he had kept them at bay, and Arya, his bigger-than-life friend Arya, the one who kept him afloat, was still the siren song that could distract him of a wound he was not ready to let bleed again.

* * *

Arya had gone back to rehearsals with the orchestra and Syrio. The old Braavosi conductor had been skeptical at Arya's excuse that she had just not eaten enough breakfast the day she fainted.

Arya truly loved Syrio, not like a father, but like an eccentric uncle who gets you into odd hobbies and who one day, as rare as a once-in-a-lifetime comet, would get on your case to call your bullshit. That afternoon though, she hated him with a passion for how many times he called her on being half a second too fast in her playing. Of course, Arya was not half a second too fast, even if her heart felt like it beat in _allegro_, while the piece called for _andante_. But that didn't mean she was playing faster, it was only that she was excited to be back at rehearsals, and perhaps in a very very slight way, it was about meeting with Gendry later that evening at his studio, and going home together. That reason couldn't be making her play fast, because she had done precisely the same thing countless times, even if all those times did not have the potential of many more kisses with your best friend.

No, she couldn't be playing too fast. Everyone else was playing half a second too slow instead, because everyone else sitting at rehearsal still went about life expecting an unending number of tomorrows, and they would go home to the same take out they had each week, watching the same boring news, and the monotony of an ordinary life as sluggish as their playing.

No, those were not butterflies, it was just the vibration of her cello against her belly, and that soft humming lower, between her legs, was just what music did to her.

It couldn't be Gendry.

* * *

When Arya finished packing her cello and said goodbye to Syrio before leaving the rehearsal room, he simply shook his head and dismissed her with an overly dramatic movement of his hand.

"Fuck you too, Syrio!"

"Maestro!" The short man bellowed, reminding her of his position.

"Fuck you too, _Maestro_!"

Arya knew that any other conductor would have had her fired long before for her attitude, but it helped that Syrio had a soft spot for the girl he had started to mentor when she was so young, that adjectives like 'potential' and 'prodigy' were thrown out at her like candy. Syrio took her under his wing after she had been orphaned and gone through a ravaging illness. Who would she have been without death and disease in her life? Just the movement of her hands over her cello had to be mastered twice, and she had Syrio to thank for it. But despite all that, it didn't stop him from calling her on her shit, and that rehearsal afternoon had been shitty, from Syrio's point of view, for what he was confident Arya could do.

She wasn't going to let that rain on her parade, though, she could' t afford it, not anymore. What if it hadn't been a great rehearsal? It used to matter before when she'd obsessed as she practiced at home until the neighbors hit the ceiling with broomsticks, and her fingers would become numb. But that was before when time did not need to be measured, and now there was a finite number of music days, even a smaller number of great music days, she couldn't afford to think about the dwindling number of hours left for playing her cello.

No, that was the point.

Not the platitude of living each day as it was your last, no, she wanted to live each day she had left like it was the first of many many more to come. As she briskly walked through the streets of her city, she concentrated on forgetting those thoughts, and on ignoring the still rapid thumping of her heart. Better to think of Gendry and his mad challenge of falling in love on command.

When she arrived at the small studio where Gendry had his guitar workshop, she let herself in with the spare key she kept for emergencies in her own keychain. The place had an industrial feel to it, on the second floor of a car garage, but with classical string instruments that had been crafted when Gendry was studying and apprenticing hung on the walls. Gendry's chest would puff up when showing off the most unusual instruments to whoever visited for the first time: a sitar, a lute, a cuatro, a ukulele, and a charango among others; they hung next to the more common ones, with a few acoustic guitars, which were his specialty, prompting Arya to complain that there were no cellos there.

"That's because the moment I make one, you'll steal it."

"I only play on the best," Arya would respond, alluding to her family's priceless heirloom cello, which she had inherited from her grandfather, Rickard Stark.

"Excuse me _m'lady_, if not all of us plebeians can afford to play on a Strad."

"You know well that my cello is not a Strad."

"Yeah, my bad. You do not own a 300-year old Stradivarius worth millions, no, just a modest hundred-year-old cello, worth what? About some measly six figures?"

"Shut up! You wouldn't get to work on an instrument of this caliber if it weren't for me."

"And it if weren't for me that cello would be in ruins, and your poor grandfather would be rolling in his grave."

Thanks to Arya's and Syrio's recommendations, Gendry had a few loyal classical musicians among his clientele, but his bread and butter was caring for fairly-known local musicians' electric guitars.

When Arya reached the back of the workshop, she found Gendry with Anguy, one of his oldest clients, who was on his way to making it big, having just signed with a large label after a solid career playing local gigs and having a strong online following. They seemed to be testing Anguy's well-loved Ibanez guitars, that Gendry had been working on, a cherry-red Gio, his very first, and a slate-colored RG.

They were in the middle of playing one of Anguy's best-known songs, and they both acknowledged Arya's presence with a nod, but Gendry seemed to give her a small wink, which was not lost on Anguy, who let his grin grow wide while shaking his head.

She set down her grey cello hard case and sat down on a stool to watch them. Gendry was a decent guitar player, maybe even a bit more than decent. He could have probably found work as a session musician, or even have a small following with a local band, but his heart had never been on it, his real passion was building instruments and caring for ones with a story. He had a flawless ear and artisan's hands, and for him, the real beauty was on the art of crafting unique instruments, with their own heart and a soul. He was proud of his pieces having a distinctive sound, all product of his hard work with wood and metal. Gendry was a firm believer that musical instruments had a soul, forged out of the stories of those who played them and imbued with the sweat and blood of the artisans who built them. He liked listening to the stories of his clients, of how a particular instrument had found its way to their hands, and of the best song they had ever played on them.

That afternoon, Gendry was testing his maintenance and restoration work. As he played, Arya watched his fingers dancing on the neck of the Ibanez RG. She was well-versed in the study of Gendry's fingers, having watched them since they were teenagers. When they met and realized that they shared a passion for music, Arya had gotten deadly jealous of his fingers. They were long and powerful, and since playing string instruments requires dexterity and strength, she felt that he had an unfair advantage.

Arya had a flawless ear as well, and she had quite long fingers for her size, and yet, it still took her long hours of practice to develop the necessary strength to produce bright harmonic tones on her cello, instead of flat and muffled ones. It was hardly fair that it had been so ridiculously easy for him to form chords on his beaten-up guitar, the span of his left hand wide enough to produce the most unusual chords, and his strong fingers powerful to press the strings effortlessly.

As time went by, Arya became familiar with the movement of Gendry's fingers, and his usual quirks as he played. She knew that if he played with someone who pissed him off and he considered a rival, he would play the chords in such an obscure way it would be challenging to figure out where exactly he was pressing; and she also knew that if he were in the mood to show off, he'd vary the configuration of the same chord in between bars, and his fingers would move as if they were dancing over the strings, with the same playfulness of the smug smile on his face.

In the past, Arya had felt jealous whenever Gendry and Anguy would play together, feeling replaced in their friendship. In those moments, she would regret going into such a disciplined branch of music that separated them almost as if they belonged to two different worlds. Gendry and Arya would often tease one another for their musical differences: Arya calling on Gendry's lyrical and informal style, while Gendry would irk her taunting her pointing out his perceived stiffness of her technique.

That afternoon, though, Arya felt no jealousy at standing outside the bubble where Anguy and her best friend played, and instead, she was appreciating the way Gendry's fingers were racing over the frets, as he bobbed his head slightly, like she knew him to do whenever he hit a sweet spot playing, proud of his part in the creation of music, beyond plucking the sounds out of wood, metal, and string, and instead from his artisan work, a real labor of love.

While she continued watching Gendry riff off with Anguy, an errant thought made her wonder how those slender but strong fingers would feel making her skin sing like he did his guitars. The thought made her cheeks warm, and she squirmed a bit in her seat, feeling her heart galloping once more along with the music, and she hoped, as she noticed Gendry taking her flushed cheeks in, that he'd be convinced that it was just the stuffiness of his non-air-conditioned workshop, and not how enthralling she found his hands.

* * *

When Anguy left, both Arya and Gendry were ready to head home, and once Gendry was done locking up, he joined Arya down the stairs where she stood, her shiny dark grey case strapped to her back.

"Give it here," he said, extending his hand.

"Give what?"

"Your case," Gendry explained, already lifting one of the straps from her shoulder to take the instrument from her.

Arya quickly pulled back, making the strap fall over her shoulder again.

"Do I look like someone who cannot carry her own cello?" She asked, raising one eyebrow.

"No, of course not," He replied with a deep sigh and placing his hands on his hips in frustration.

"Then, why do you want to carry my cello?"

"Because!" came out as a frustrated yell.

Arya didn't say anything but stared at him, making it clear that she was not satisfied with his justification.

"Because I do not want to look like a bad boyfriend!" Gendry explained exasperatedly.

"What do you want to look like then?" Arya asked with delight, closing the gap between them and circling her hands behind his neck.

"_Your_ boyfriend," Gendry confessed no longer staring at her eyes but instead mesmerized by the way her tongue licked her bottom lip.

Arya stood on her tiptoes to reach up to him, and he bent his head slightly, both joining in the middle, in one perfect soft kiss.

In the end, Arya let him win, and they walked the streets of their city towards home holding hands, with Gendry carrying an instrument he had never learned to play.

* * *

After having a simple dinner, they had sat down to watch the tv together, and this time Gendry's arm had gone around Arya almost immediately. It had felt natural for Arya to set her head on his shoulder, as it had been something they had been doing for years. When she looked up, something incited Gendry to move and place a kiss on her forehead, and when he pulled back, Arya's eyes were closed as in a trance. The sight of her lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, compelling him to lean once more and kiss her forehead. Arya moved her face, and soon he was placing a kiss on the tip of her nose and then on her lips, and before they knew it, Arya's back was on the sofa, and they were making out like teenagers, while their long-forgotten show kept playing in the background.

It was downright ridiculous, Gendry thought, to find himself at the age of twenty-six acting like a goddamned teenager. Because the way he had been making out with Arya on their own bloody sofa was right out juvenile. He hadn't even been like this when he was a teen.

Horny?

Yes, he had had a healthy budding libido like any other teenage boy. The difference being that other teenage boys were not the sole children of a single mother with a terminal disease.

He hadn't done much making out before his mother passed. He had barely had a few kisses here and there before his mother was diagnosed, and then there was no time for him to interact with anyone.

And then his mother had died.

He had turned into a sullen boy in a destructive path: the proverbial bad boy, all dark and rude.

Gendry had not been the type of bad boy to abuse girls, but he was not interested in any kind of relationship, but a girl of age, fully consenting, aware that there would be no future with him, ready and willing had been fair game. And given the sorry shit of a father that had spawned him, he always made sure to practice the safest of sex.

Once his fury had calmed a bit, and with the help of Arya, his casual relationships had become more sporadic. He wasn't really drawn into relationships because he couldn't stomach the idea of having to recount his life story to another human being. Having Arya know everything that was there to know about him was enough, and now, they were kissing madly on the sofa, clothes being pulled to the side when they had perfectly good beds mere steps away.

"Keep that up, and you'll make me come in my pants like a bloody teenager," Gendry sighed in her ear in response to the way she had been rubbing herself against him.

Arya laughed at his words, and perhaps at the way his breath tickled her ear.

"Are you embarrassed? You've never been embarrassed with me," she asked, pulling his head back just enough to look into his darkened eyes.

"Well, I am in a very vulnerable position," Gendry replied, looking down to his more than noticeable erection.

"Having a tent in your trousers is not a vulnerable position," Arya commented, "I am the one with a tit out and clothes all over the place, I look ridiculous."

Arya's words brought Gendry's attention to the strap of her top that he had been pulled down in their frenzy, letting her left breast and her puckered rosy nipple showing.

"No, you look delicious," he replied, just before capturing it with his mouth, making Arya arch herself into the feeling.

In the past, when he was nothing but a furious boy, he would hook up with girls trying to numb the pain and the loss. It took him years and a lot of therapy to come to terms with that, and right then, his strong leg in between Arya's jean-clad ones, rubbing himself hard against him, knowing full well he'd be chafed later, he couldn't ignore the insidious thought, the fear of being at the brink of losing again. He knew very well what he was doing, trying to silence that voice, but this time losing himself in Arya's body because he was afraid of remembering that there was a fast-approaching future in which she would cease to exist. He had made a vow to himself that he'd do whatever he could to give her what she had been so sad to have missed. But if he was true to himself, he would have to accept that he also wanted to forget, to believe that this was real, and to have them both collide against each other, and let her kiss and love him with such intensity that she'd be branded to him, tattooed to his very soul, so once she wasn't there anymore, there would not be a way to deny the aftermath of Arya Stark in his life, body, and mind.

"You're thinking too loud."

Her throaty voice made him aware that his passion had waned with the progression of his thoughts, and he sat up on the sofa, noticing the tv had been on the whole time, and lifting the remote to turn it off. Arya had sat up as well, taking the time to readjust her clothing.

"I'm sorry," Gendry said quietly.

"Are you apologizing for the snogging or for whatever made you go cold on me all of a sudden?"

"The latter, definitely the latter."

"Good, I was worried you had started to regret this."

"No, never," he replied, looking into her eyes, hoping she could read his sincerity in his.

Arya was breathing loudly, and while kissing her seemed to always have an effect on him, and leave him needing to catch his own breath, Gendry recognized that she should have caught hers by then.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I must have sat up too fast."

"Are you saying kissing me makes you dizzy? I take your breath away, eh Stark?" He joked, trying to distract them both from the heaviness of the things they were not saying.

Arya pushed his shoulder hard, catching him unaware and forcing him to brace his weight with his hand on the sofa. After that, she stood up and walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, leaning against the sink. Gendry followed her and leaned himself on the kitchen island right in front of her.

"You need to see your doctor," he dared to say.

"Because I got a bit lightheaded? Don't give yourself too much credit, Baratheon."

"You know what I mean."

"We have a deal," Arya reminded him, the intensity in her eyes challenging him.

"What we have is a hostage situation," he countered.

"Are you saying that you were kissing me under duress?"

"Don't twist my words," he said, pulling her to him.

He embraced her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, making Arya place the glass she was holding on the counter behind Gendry and holding him tight. They stayed like that for several minutes, both hearts beating messages that neither could voice into words.

After a while, they pulled back but stayed close, forehead to forehead.

"We should go to bed," Gendry suggested, without opening his eyes.

"Is that an invitation?" She teased in return, making Gendry open his eyes, surprised.

"I meant," he said as he chastised himself internally for the way he knew his cheeks were getting warm, "that you should go to your bed, and I to mine."

"Back there," she said, tilting her head towards their sofa, "it didn't feel like you wanted to go to your bed alone."

"I said that we should go to our own beds, not that I wanted to."

"Why?" Arya asked.

"This is supposed to be falling in love, not just fucking."

"Why can't it be both?" and for a second, Gendry felt transported to the past, to every moment Arya had pushed boundaries, never accepting something because it just was the way things were.

"Why can't you let me do this right?" He asked, his hands on the back of his head, and his eyes scrunched up in frustration.

"Because you've had such a successful love life?"

The ridiculousness made him chuckle.

"Joke's on you because if I had been successful, we wouldn't be here right now."

Arya could have teased him or antagonized him as it was her custom, but instead, she walked to where he was standing and took his face in her hands to guide his face to hers and seal their lips into a kiss.

"Fine, then," she acquiesced, pulling away, "have it your way."

Gendry pulled her back into his embrace, nibbling her neck, right behind her jaw, so he could whisper in her ear.

"I'll make it worth your while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a bit of a filler, but hopefully, it filled a bit more on their story. 
> 
> It's been so long since I've been teasing the story of the Gibson and I still didn't get to it in this chapter, but I get the feeling we'll get to it in the next one. 
> 
> I can't promise I will post it in a week since I'm in the middle of a very demanding project at work, but I am committing on having it ready in two weeks tops. 
> 
> Thank you all, I look forward to your ideas ;)


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry has one regret, but it may not be the one Arya fears. He wants his first time with Arya to be different than any other of his past experiences, to which Arya has a creative idea. Gendry tells Arya the story of the Gibson Les Paul he is fixing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this story wouldn't leave my head, and I ended up getting this chapter ready almost a whole week before than what I had planned. 
> 
> Hope you like it.
> 
> Adding a shoutout to Snapdragon76 for being an awesome librarian who shares her research with me and I've been totally using it for my fics.

[ ](https://imgur.com/caDOoe0)

The Saturday morning light filtered through the window waking Gendry up and prompting a groan. Without opening his eyes, he reached for the pillow under his head. He flipped it over his eyes to block the sun, as he cursed internally for forgetting to close his blinds the previous night, too distracted by his sexual frustration.

He had no one else to blame but himself, as soon as his door was closed, he leaned his forehead on it, knowing he had made a colossal mistake. Gendry had tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep with his want still electric on his skin; when that didn't work, he had attempted to take himself in hand, but it had only frustrated him more, knowing that next door the object of his desire lay in her own bed. The mere possibility of Arya thinking of him was enough to make his fist unfulfilling, and after a while, he had resorted to taking a cold shower.

Why had he denied himself when Arya had been more than willing?

_'I'll make you worth your while,'_ he had told her, and he grunted at the memory, and his feeble attempt at sounding suave. If he was honest, he had to admit that he had been afraid.

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, he got up and head to the bathroom, hoping a shower would help him clear his head. Once there, he could see that Arya had already showered for the day, though he hadn't seen her when he left his room. After he was done showering and brushing his teeth, he went back to his room to put on clothes. He didn't feel a vast improvement to his mood, beyond feeling frustrated while clean.

He found Arya in the kitchen, busy pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," he said, giving a quick kiss to the top of her head, and taking the pot from her, and grabbing a mug to pour himself one.

"Good morning, though you don't look like it is a particularly good one," she replied at his brusque manner.

Gendry was about to drink from his cup, but he set it down on the counter instead.

"Didn't sleep well."

"I bet you would have with me," Arya ventured, which only added to his foul mood, "and you wouldn't be such a bear this morning."

"I got scared," he confessed.

"Of sleeping with me?" She asked astounded.

Gendry didn't respond and instead looked down to his bare feet. Arya felt a sudden hollowness, and turned back, to place the pot back in the coffeemaker, but mostly to hide how apprehensive she suddenly felt when she faced the possibility of his regret.

"We really don't have to do this," Arya said quietly.

Almost immediately, Gendry was behind her, with his arms holding tight around her middle, and his face buried in the crook of her neck, nuzzling as if looking for some sort of comfort. He had surprised her, and she recognized a Gendry that she hadn't seen in years, the one that was still a motherless boy hungry for affection. Arya moved her hand back to cradle the back of his head.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered against her neck.

Arya knew the words hanging in the air went beyond the moment they were in, beyond the present fear of their attempt at falling in love together would end up being a mistake. Still, she couldn't afford to address it, and instead, she went for the more superficial one.

"You will not lose me," she reassured him, and after a moment, she continued, "I know that you would do whatever you could to make me happy, but I don't want you to pretend. You're off the hook."

She felt him tense and let go, and something unexpected inside of her broke. She didn't have time to deal with the feeling because a soft pull to her hip made her turn. She was facing him once more, with his body flushed against hers, as he cradled her face in his large hands.

"I want you," he said, leaning down, his face so close to hers, she could feel the warmth of his words on her lips, "all of you."

Gendry kissed her, trying to tell her that loving her was not a burden. His warm lips trapped her lower one, for his tongue to lick it softly. As the kiss grew, one of his hands had trailed down to the small of her back, and the other went from her face to her nape and tangling his fingers in her still-damp hair. Arya's own hands had gone to his arms, and they slid slowly up to his strong shoulders, meeting on the back of his head.

Arya felt dizzy as Gendry pulled away from her, only for him to lift her and have her sitting on the counter. Placing his hands on her knees, he gently pulled them apart and stepped in between, getting closer to her and resuming his attack on her mouth.

"I'm not scared of you, of us," he said after pulling back, and he stared at Arya, whose eyes remained closed, her lips swollen from his kisses.

It took her a couple of seconds to have his words make sense, prompting her eyes to open.

"I'm not proud of how sex has been part of my life in the past," he said, avoiding her eyes, and instead focusing on a strand of hair that was out of place, brushing it behind her ear.

"And?"

"And, I didn't want it to be like it has been with other women I've slept with. You are different. You're my best friend. You're Arya."

She bit her bottom lip at his words.

"Last night, I was an idiot, and I hated myself afterward because what I really want to do is hold you in my arms and never let you go."

There it was again, the fear neither of them wanted to voice.

"You really are an idiot," she said, trying to distract them both.

"Surely, not news to you."

"Were you bluffing when you told me you'd make the wait worth my while?" Arya asked, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him closer to her.

"Oh, I will putting all my effort into it, but yes."

"What are we going to do then?" She asked, her big grey eyes inviting him in, letting him see every secret thing in them: the wonder and hope, along with her fear and insecurities. All the things that he knew, more than anyone else, were guarded behind the impenetrable steel of her eyes.

"I'll make it up to you, I don't know, I can take you out, or we can do something special tonight, we could cook dinner, and stay in."

"Or,"

"_Or_?"

"Ever had morning sex?"

He didn't have to think hard for the answer because the answer was a definite no. He never brought anyone home because he couldn't stomach someone trying to make small talk as they picked up a framed photo of Anna, inquiring who she was. He cringed at the idea of a date asking what a luthier was and if he had always dreamed of becoming one; or the possibility of having to explain Arya's place in his life.

He always preferred to go to his potential sexual partners' places: apartments and homes he knew he would never visit again. Windows into lives where he would be a one-time tourist, leaving way before dawn. Gendry was also not proud of the fact that he had coupled in cars and bar restrooms more times than he could count on one hand.

Instead of responding, he threw Arya over his shoulder, making her yelp in surprise.

"Where are we going?" She asked, pushing over his shoulder, trying to raise her head.

"My bed."

"My mattress is better," she pointed out.

"Don't care," Gendry said as he laid her down on his bed, "we can go there for our second time. The first time I make love to you, it is going to be on my bed."

"Bold of you to assume that there will be a second time."

"Bold of you to assume you won't want me again after having me once."

"You're deflecting, what is the real reason?"

"I've never brought anyone here before," he replied, climbing on hands and knees over her and dipping his head to kiss her again.

Arya's hands searched blindly for the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing, and pulled it up once she found it. Once high enough, he had to let go of her lips and leaned back over his knees to aid her in ridding him of his top. Arya took a moment to admire his mussed hair and the defined lines of his chest, stopping just enough on the tattoo on his left side, just above his heart. Her eyes then traveled down his torso, to his hip bones, and then down the mirrored creases that formed a "V," inviting her sight down, to where it hid under the grey sweatpants he was wearing.

"My eyes are up here," he indicated, breaking her spell.

"Good to know, but I wasn't looking for your eyes."

Her response made him chuckle, and then, it was his turn to help her rid herself of her camisole. Her nipples hardened immediately when exposed to the morning air, but perhaps they did under the heat of his gaze.

"Beautiful," he said, lowering himself back on her, and the white gold ring he wore on a silver chain around his neck came to rest in the valley between her breasts, making Arya squirm a bit with the coolness of the metal against her heated skin. He let himself sink more until he could feel the hardened pebbles against his own chest, and he kissed her again with fervor. Arya had parted her legs and wrapped them around him, forming a perfect seat for his pubic bone, letting him feel her heat through the thin cotton layer of both their sweatpants. The feeling prompted Gendry to rub himself against her, letting her know the perfect shape of his need, making her moan.

Arya's hand slid from his chest to his side until it found the ridge of the sweatpants he was wearing, and it ventured under it to cup a well-defined cheek and squeeze, which made him grin against her lips. The hand retreated to the edge and motioned to pull his sweatpants and boxer briefs down.

"Eager to see me naked, are we?" He teased.

"I've seen you naked plenty of times before, like every other person who has ever had the misfortune to be around you when you get shit-faced."

"Hardly the same thing, and it is not like I striptease, I just like being comfortable and ready for bed."

"And you sleep in the buff, I know, I've heard this explanation before."

"Fine," he said, stripping off the last two items of clothing, "but I need you bare as well."

He sat back again and pulled off her remaining clothing.

They took a moment to admire the other's naked body.

"I'm just going to come out and say it, this is so worth ruining our friendship for."

At Gendry's words, Arya placed her foot on his chest and pushed, trying to kick him off the bed, but Gendry only faltered for a second, and instead captured her foot with his hand and moved it to his side, taking advantage of the path it cleared to lean back against her.

"Hi," he said, swaying back and forth slowly, relishing in the feeling of her breasts against his chest and letting his hardness find the furrow of her lips.

"Look, it's my former best friend."

"_And_ current lover," he quipped back with a crooked smile, right before capturing her mouth once more in a searing kiss.

Arya's hands wrapped around his back, feeling the sturdiness of his shoulder blades. Needing to explore the vast plains more, she let the pads of her fingers caress down, and then, as they moved back up, the tips of her fingernails raked the skin setting the trail on fire. Once they reached the nape of his neck, her left-hand dove in his black tresses, massaging his scalp, as Gendry attacked her mouth more vehemently.

Gendry was supporting himself on his left forearm, giving his right-hand free reign to explore her skin. His palm set her strong leg around his hip, it moved up over her thigh and her hip, and continued up and center, stopping only when it reached the underside of her breast, making Arya tingle with anticipation. He moved his thumb then, relishing on the velvety skin that curved with the heaviness of her breast. Arya ached to have him touch her nipple, which felt impossibly tight. Still, he did not seem to be in any hurry to make contact, and instead, his thumb continued tracing circles right under the promised land, just barely grazing the areola when it stretched up.

Gendry felt the frustrated breath of Arya's moan and the tug to his hair tangled around her fingers. That was the signal he was waiting for, to finally let his callused thumb strum the stiff peak with the same mastery as he would the strings of a guitar. As if on cue, Arya groaned a low note and undulated under him, anointing him with her need, and making him grunt.

Arya stretched back, baring her neck, and thrusting her chest up, offering Gendry more creamy skin to explore, which he gladly accepted, and kissed his way down, leaving a trail of invisible kisses, as indelible as tattoos. His journey south led to the breast his hand had neglected, but he vindicated himself by worshipping it ardently.

Arya's left leg had found its way around his hip to rest against her right over his athletic arse. Sensing its firmness, she uncrossed her ankles, resting her feet on the place where his strong legs met his buttocks, her action pressing them further into each other, letting both sense their increased eagerness to join.

Gendry couldn't say he hadn't thought of this once or twice through their long friendship, or even more times if he counted moments when he had been slightly drunk, or in the twilight moment between dream and slumber. More times, from time to time, fleetingly while coupling with anonymous partners, never consciously enough to risk their friendship, or to cause him guilt. But none of those times ever compared to the actual feeling of sinking into his best friend's folds. Neither of them had been ready for it, he had been sliding back and forth, in between her outer lips, enticing her tight nub with the ridge of his head. He had been teasing a nipple at the same time, and then he had given it a love bite, which had made Arya surge and tilt her hips, catching the tip of his cock just in the right angle, surprising them both. Gendry caught himself when he was half-buried in her. They both stayed still for a few seconds, that felt longer than they really were. Feeling Arya relax, he went forward slowly, letting himself relish in her tight heat.

He would have lost himself in the feeling if it weren't for the sudden tension around him, and the way Arya burrowed her face in the crook of his neck.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned.

"Just give me a moment."

"Of course," he replied, and started pulling out.

"Don't fucking move for a second!"

"Am I…? Is it…?" He asked with honest confusion, "Am I hurting you?"

"It's just a tad uncomfortable for the moment."

Gendry's hand slid in between them, just above the place where they joined, and once he found her clit, he started tracing faint circles over the tight nub, easing her discomfort a bit.

"Not that I am not flattered but, I am hardly slightly above average. Has it been long for you?"

"About 23 years, give or take," Arya replied with nervous humor.

"This is your first time?!"

His voice had come out louder than he had intended.

"Why do you sound so surprised? You knew!"

"I did not."

"How could you not? We live together, I never brought anyone home."

"I never brought anyone home either, and it certainly isn't my first."

"You know what I meant. When would I have had the opportunity?"

"Braavos," Gendry pointed out, "I thought you and, what was his face?"

"Jaqen? Fuck, no!"

"You stayed there long, longer than any other place. You used to mention him a lot."

"I was there to learn from him."

"Well, that's what I thought," he responded, raising his eyebrows.

"To play the cello! I left because he was a cult leader, and I didn't want to be another one of his cello groupies," Arya explained, "can we stop talking about Jaqen? I really don't want to talk about him while you are inside me."

While they had been arguing, he had continued the circular motion on her clit, and his presence in her had slowly gone from slightly painful to noticeably enticing, inciting her to tilt her pelvis back and forth in tiny movements, which felt delicious to Gendry.

"What other man do you want to talk about while I'm inside you then?" He asked, punctuating the word _'man'_ by retreating and penetrating her, deeper this time around.

Arya's eyes rolled back, and her lids narrowed at the heightened sensation. She knew what he was doing, knowing he'd be grinning before she opened her eyes.

"Mr. Davis, our postman, do you think he will be retiring soon? He's ancient," she replied, without missing a beat.

He retreated and thrust again, prompting them both to moan.

"Do you really need your ego fluffed while we're fucking?" She asked with one eyebrow raised.

"No, the fucking's enough," he replied with a grin.

"Shut up, then."

"Make me," he challenged.

And so she did what they had always done, which was never backing down from a challenge. She pulled Gendry down with her arms around his neck and kissed him a bit more forcefully than what she had planned, making their teeth bump a little. It made them both laugh against each other's mouths, but the imperfection of it was reassuring, reminding them both it was still them.

It took them a few tries, but in the end, they figured out the dance. It was like riffing, finding rhythm and balance to the give and take. Sex together felt like everything else in their friendship, round after round of increasing dares, of trusting to jump hand in hand without looking down. And at the same time, it was completely new, like the vibration of a new note in the center of the chest, growing with layer after layer of sound, of moans and sighs and grunts that ended in a crescendo of each other's names.

After the blissful ending, it took them a while to catch their breaths, and when they found each other's eyes, they couldn't stop from laughing open belly laughs.

"You really are awful at this," Arya teased.

"Shut up!" He yelled as he tickled her, rolling onto his back and pulling her against his chest.

Once settled, Arya found herself tracing the elegant lines of the bull's head, crowned with Casablanca lilies, that Gendry had tattooed in memory of his mum. They had gone together to the studio, while Arya had cello F-holes tattooed to her lower back, Gendry had his done in memory of Anna, who had always called him her bull for his stubbornness, and he had added her favorite flowers in her honor.

They dozed off after the exertion, and they could have remained like that for a long time if it hadn't been for Gendry's hunger pangs. He opened his eyes a bit disoriented, but the warm weight on his chest reassured him. Looking down, he saw the messy strands of Arya's head, obscuring her face, snuggled over his right pec. Her shapely leg rested over his lap, and his own hand was comfortably set on her backside. He couldn't hide the smile that bloomed at the memories of their encounter, and his hand started idly moving from her supple arse to the small of her back and tracing blindly where he knew her tattoos were.

It had been a very long while since the last time he remembered feeling that content, and he would have stayed there, enjoying Arya's rhythmic breathing pattern if his stomach hadn't groaned once more. Turning his face to his side table, he saw the time, 11:11. He had never been superstitious, but he still made a silent wish and kissed the top of Arya's head.

Careful not to wake her, he extricated himself from her and rose to look for his clothes. Finding his boxer briefs, he put them on, and he headed to the kitchen to get them both something to eat. Both coffee mugs were where they left them, cold and untouched. He poured them both out at the sink, as well as the stale coffee from the pot, and started a new one. He had already started the eggs and bacon when he saw Arya coming to the kitchen.

"Is that my t-shirt?" He asked, feigning aggravation, but feeling his chest puffing up.

"Isn't it a rite of passage to wear the shirt of the person who just shagged you thoroughly and nothing else?" She asked in return, perching herself on the counter across from where Gendry stood by the stove.

Turning to face her, black apron over his boxer briefs and holding a spatula, he addressed her, "you wear my t-shirts and hoodies all the time."

"Not right after sex."

He didn't respond, but instead, he did that lopsided smug smile of his and turned back to tend to their breakfast.

"Is this part of the Baratheon sex package?"

At her question, he walked towards her and stood in between her legs.

"No, _you_ are the only one to get the boyfriend experience," he said, giving her a quick peck to the lips.

* * *

After breakfast, they sat on the couch with their coffee, enjoying the lazy Saturday morning.

"Tell me about the Gibson," Arya said, as she rested her feet on his lap.

"The Gibson is an oath."

"What do you mean?"

"The Gibson was given to its owner as an oath."

Arya always enjoyed listening to Gendry's stories of the instruments he worked on.

"Do I know the owner of the Gibson?"

"It is someone you respect and admire as a musician. Even if they chose to play such a pedestrian instrument."

"You make it sound like I am a musical snob."

"Aren't you?"

"I am naked under your shirt, and you play the guitar, you tell me."

"You like to mingle with the low," he replied with a shrug.

"Keep that up, and I will go to my room to put my knickers on."

"No, stay here."

"Tell me about the guitar," she beckoned.

"Brienne of Tarth."

"_The_ Brienne of Tarth?"

"Do you know any other?"

"Idiot."

"Anyways, it's hers."

"I've never seen her with a Les Paul."

"No one has," he explained, as he set his mug on the coffee table, and scooted closer to Arya, until she was sitting on his lap, "and especially not this one unless you were family, I guess. Anyways, her grandfather was a road musician, hardcore. The 'leave a woman on every port' type. Apparently, he was an awful husband and father, lived on the road, probably sowed bastards everywhere he went. Who knows, anyway, The Gibson Les Paul was his. But as horrible a father as he was, he was a good grandfather, he would return home from time to time, and he would teach Brienne to play on his Gibson Les Paul. Brienne grew up idolizing that guitar, but sadly old grandpa liked to drink and liked any other way he could find to make him forget. One day he had drunk, whored, and snorted any money he had left, and he pawned his prized guitar. He never got it back, and since then, she dreamed about the mint color Gibson Les Paul on which she learned to play."

"You said the Gibson was an oath."

"Patience, woman! I haven't finished. So, you know of Jaime Lannister."

"Her on an off common-law husband," Arya replied, leaning to set her empty mug next to Gendry's.

"The very one. Apparently, he had a life-long codependent relationship with his cousin or something. A very destructive relationship. Brienne was the only woman to ever hold a candle to her, but he would fall off the wagon and go back to old habits until one day, Brienne had it and left him for good. A whole year they were apart, but what Brienne didn't know was that he searched and searched until he found the Gibson, and he bought it. It was in great disrepair, it still is, he gave it to Brienne and said it was an oath to her, and she took him back, and they looked for someone who could bring the Gibson back to its former glory, a veritable guitar smith."

"What happened to this smith that made them go to you instead?"

Gendry tickled her in retaliation.

"You are a rude woman."

"Stop tickling me."

"Say '_Gendry you are the very best luthier in the world.'_"

"Gendry, you are the very best luthier in the world."

"And the best lover."

"And the best lover I've ever had," she said with a glint in her eye.

"I'm the only lover you've ever had."

"Then it is not a lie."

"Whatever, you just lucked out on your very first try."

"Does she have a name, the Les Paul?"

"Oathkeeper."

"Are you shitting me?!"

"No, swear to god."

"It's a fucking love story! That's what you should have given me instead of a cactus!" She said, punching him on the shoulder playfully.

"I don't need to refurbish you a cello, I can make you a fucking cello, but you have never asked!"

"It would take you what? A fucking year to make a cello, I couldn't afford to keep you just making a cello for me."

"Arya Stark, I have taken care of your instruments all through my studies and my professional life, and I have never once asked you to pay for my services. You know you could have asked me to make you a cello at any time."

"I think there are better things I could engage your hands in," she said with a wink.

"You were telling me something about your mattress?"

Arya only stood up and started walking towards her room, halfway there she shed Gendry's t-shirt, who did not need any more incentive to follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts?
> 
> I have to admit that I really like the relationship between these two. 
> 
> Let me know what you think ;)


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has a concert and Gendry lets her know what he thinks of her music. Their relationship grows and Arya invites him to go to her music for kids class. There is a confrontation about Arya avoiding her family and the fears they both have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took far longer than what I had planned, but finally, it is finished. Shoutout to @snapdragon76 for sharing Bach's Cello Suite No. 1. She's my favorite librarian/researcher, who feeds my imagination with the facts and info she shares with me. 
> 
> Dear TK, there is something in there that I'm sure it's going to resonate with you and is a callback to last chapter ;)
> 
> I've proofread this, but I'm sure I missed things, but I'm planning on coming back to fix it.

[ ](https://imgur.com/mntPvd2)

Arya's bed was indeed far superior to his, but Gendry wondered if it was due to the clearly more expensive mattress, or because her scent was ingrained in the pillows and sheets. Her warmth beckoned him to stay there, under her soft bedding, keeping her skin bare against him for the rest of the weekend. They would have if Arya hadn't had a concert Saturday night, and so they had begrudgingly parted. While Arya started donning the required garments dictated by the dress code of the orchestra, Gendry watched her intently, still naked under her duvet, leaning against the headboard. He stared, enthralled as if witnessing a ritual: the way she slid the black satin knickers on and covered her pale breasts with the bra. Then had come the despised mandatory stockings, a topic with which Arya often bothered Syrio, asking if the music went to shit if her legs were bare. 

Sitting at the foot of the bed, she slid the sheer silk over one pale leg until the lace at the end reached the top of her thigh, and then, she repeated the same motion with the other one. Once finished, she got up, only to see Gendry, pupils blown, staring.

"Don't get any ideas, this is for work," she said as she turned to reach for her dress from her wardrobe, only to find herself embraced by him from behind.

"Fine, but you'll need help taking all of this off when you're back," he punctuated with a kiss to the neck.

"How helpful of you," she replied, feeling him smile against her skin.

"I'll be waiting for you."

"It'll be late by the time I'm back."

"I'll be up," Gendry promised.

* * *

  
What Gendry didn't tell her was that he was planning on picking her up. He arrived at the concert hall some twenty minutes before it was over, and Lommy, one of the ushers who he was friendly with, let him in to watch from the back. He could see Arya in the middle of the stage, fully immersed in her solo. Gendry had heard it before, he was sure, but he had never been as knowledgeable about the classics as Arya was to know it by name. In the past, he had watched her practice it at home, and despite how in awe of her talent he had always been, it didn't compare to this, not now that he knew what it felt like to have her in his arms, sharing with him the same passion with which she was currently playing. 

Arya's music would never cease bewitching him. The way her slender fingers moved over the strings, precise and deadly. Every movement of her hands as elegant as a ballerina's, but he knew, despite their dainty look, that to produce the vibrant sounds, her fingers needed incredible strength. Her eyes were closed, and the emotion of each note could be read on her face, the longing and the hope, the grief and fear, and the joy that music brought her.

Her cello stood in between her parted legs, leaning on her left knee, and a fleeting memory reminded Gendry of those same knees parted and her legs wrapped around his body just hours before and the thought was enough to make his trousers feel tight. He had to admit that Arya's legs were his weakness: he'd never tire of caressing her shapely arse and firm thighs, sculpted by an active childhood, climbing trees and fleeing from older brothers. He loved how her calves curved, peeking out from the side slits of her dress, framing the exquisitely finished maple wood. 

The movement of the bow in her hand brought him back to the present. Every stroke of her hand perfectly plotted, stretching the sound like a sigh, and enchanting something in his core, and elevating it, bar by bar, feeling his very soul levitating, and almost escaping through his mouth. 

On the last note, Arya's face was tilted back, eyes closed, until silence came and she opened her lids and looked forward, Gendry felt her eyes lock with his, and while he knew he was too far for her to really see him, he felt her gaze on him, every thought and feeling bared for her. 

The moment broke with thunderous applause.

Soon after, all the musicians stood up, and Syrio turned, joining them in taking a bow. Gendry took the opportunity then, to leave before the public started filing towards the exit. He knew they'd be doing an encore, and then it would still take Arya a bit longer to be ready, and so, he went to wait for her by the musicians' entrance, as he had done a few times during their friendship.

He was leaning against the wall when Arya finally came out, distracted as she looked at something on her mobile, dressed in her blacks but with a military-style jacket on top, contrasting with her traditional attire.

"Need any help with your cello, miss?" He called, getting her attention.

Her knitted brows relaxed with recognition, and a wide grin appeared on her face.

"Were you in there?" She asked as she walked towards him.

"For the very last piece only," he replied, meeting her halfway and taking the cello case from her shoulder.

"I thought I saw you for a moment, I was sure it was my imagination."

"Missing me already?" He asked, his tone coming up cockier then he had intended.

"I'm not the one who's here to pick me up when I just saw you roughly three hours ago, and you know I'm heading home."

"I've waited for you at this very entrance in the past."

"When we've had plans."

"I thought we had plans."

"Jumping back into bed is not a plan," she noted, making Gendry snort.

"For the record," he explained, trying to remain serious, "I did not plan to take you back to bed. I meant to take you out for dinner, and then when we're back home, I meant to have you on every flat surface."

"How boring of you to consider only flat surfaces," She mocked him, as she pulled him into a quick kiss.

"Let's go," he proposed, "want to stop somewhere for dinner?"

"Can we order something and head home? I'm tired, and these old lady shoes are hard to walk on. I was about to call an Uber."

"Sounds good."

* * *

The ride on the Uber hadn't been unusually long. Arya had leaned on Gendry's shoulder and looked out the window, watching how the raindrops and the lights of the city mingled together, creating a kaleidoscope of bright shapes that lulled her a bit. She woke up when Gendry placed a loud kiss on her temple.

"We're here, sleepyhead."

Once inside their apartment, Gendry settled her cello on the floor, in the corner where Arya's chair and stand stood, while Arya hung her jacket. 

"What do you want to have for dinner," he asked a few minutes later, meeting her in the kitchen, where Arya was getting two beers from their fridge.

Arya handed him one, and then, she reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Once they parted, she replied, "you."

"You're not tired of me yet? You've had me already."

"No, I'm planning on giving you at least a full week before moving on to my next lover."

"Then I should make it count," he said before kissing her soundly, "but for that, I need you well-nourished. What do you want for dinner?"

"Not very hungry," she shrugged before taking a swig of her beer.

"Too bad, you will be eating. How about Braavosi?"

"Fine. My usual."

"As m' lady commands."

After quickly ordering, he stood against the sink, while Arya jumped on her favorite spot atop the kitchen island. 

"What was that last piece you played? Your solo?" Gendry asked after taking a sip from his beer.

"Bach's Cello Suite No. 1? You liked it?"

"You looked like a goddess playing."

"You're corny," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I was speechless. You're something else."

"You are biased."

"I am, but you are still out of this world."

"Thank you."

"I learned something tonight," he said, walking towards her. 

When he reached her knees, he parted them slightly, just enough so he could walk in between them, his right hand placing his beer on the counter, while the left was resting on her thigh.

"What was it?"

"You, playing like that. It does it for me."

The intensity on his blue eyes took her breath away and made her heart race, just as music had earlier that evening.

"Really?"

"Really."

Arya put her own beer bottle down behind her, and once her hands were free, she wrapped them around his neck and gave him a searing kiss.

"I like watching you when you play," she added once they parted.

"You can't compare me riffing with Anguy in my workshop with that! You are a virtuoso, and I'm just a craftsman," he said, grinning and making the creases Arya loved around his eyes appear.

"It does it for me," she continued, making sure he could feel in her tone how serious she was.

"Does it?"

"Yes. And actually, when you play with Anguy," she added, taking a moment to admit what came next, "it makes me jealous."

"He's not my type, you are," he added with a glint in his eye.

"Idiot," she said, letting go of his neck to swat at his arm, but Gendry's hand cradled the back of her head, and kissing her passionately.

After they separated, Arya fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt for a moment, and then looked up to him and said: 

"I know you were quite invested in taking off my clothes, but I cannot wait for another second wearing these stockings."

"Allow me."

Gendry's hands went under the skirt of her dress, his fingertips sliding up the sheer silkiness until it reached the lace at the edge. He felt the ridge of one with only the pad of his middle finger. The scratchiness of the lace contrasting with the smoothness of the skin of her thigh. All through it, Gendry's eyes were fixated on Arya's, and a smile was slowly blooming on both their faces. 

"Are you taking it off, or are you going to fidget some more with it?"

At her words, he hooked up his fingers on either side and slowly folded it back into itself. His hands then rolled the stocking down her thigh and over her knee and down her calf. Once he was done with one, he continued with the other one, letting them fall on the floor. He then walked more into the space in between her legs, with his hands still on her legs, reaching beyond the tender flesh of her inner thighs, that had been covered by the silk of her stockings. His mouth was close enough to hers, enough that both could feel the warmth of their breath on their lips. 

The doorbell broke the trance and Gendry growled in her mouth. 

"Let's get you fed," he said, patting her thigh.

The way Arya played with her food, barely eating anything at all was not lost on Gendry, or how she had started yawning. Once they cleared their plates and tidied up their kitchen, they took turns in the bathroom, brushing their teeth, and then they both walked into Arya's room. 

"I believe you were going to help me out of these clothes."

"I'll help you, but I think you should go to sleep, you look exhausted."

"I'm not that tired."

"It is a miracle you didn't fall face-first on your food, but if you had, you would have been fine, since all your food was still there to break your fall."

"Was not hungry."

"You still need to eat."

"It's just… After playing, I feel so worked up, and I can't eat."

"Fine, I'll make you breakfast in the morning, proper Sunday breakfast, and you will eat. Let's get you out of these clothes then."

Gendry pushed the straps of her black dress off her shoulders, and the whole thing slid down her body with ease. Arya was able to see his eyes getting darker as he looked at her. She then took the opportunity to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. 

"I thought I was getting you naked."

"Seemed unfair since you are so much more overdressed."

"I'm just getting you in bed."

"Precisely," she punctuated with a daring look. 

"You're going to fall asleep on me, aren't you?"

"I will not do such a thing."

"Promise?"

Arya kissed him instead. 

* * *

Time and experience had convinced Gendry that living with his best friend was one of the most inspired decisions of his life: late-night video game tournaments, all weekend musical experimentation, hangovers nursed together, and honesty hours at four in the morning. And then, they had turned their friendship into a romance, and he discovered that it was an infinitely better decision. 

That Sunday morning, though, as he was coming back from grocery shopping for their breakfast, Gendry realized there was one more fringe benefit that he had not yet anticipated, as he was greeted back by the sight of the object of his affection stretching and trying to reach the top cupboard in their kitchen, wearing nothing but the button-up shirt he had been wearing the night before. 

"Need help?" He asked, standing a few steps behind her, placing the canvas bags on the kitchen counter.

"Why do we keep the tea so bloody high?!" Arya huffed, and the contrast between her exasperation and how cute she looked to Gendry, wearing his light grey shirt, with rolled-back sleeves, made him smile. 

"No idea, but I have to admit, the view is magnificent."

Arya's hand quickly came to her backside, to confirm that indeed, a bit of her bum was peeking from under Gendry's shirt, and she pulled the back down. 

She then turned back to see Gendry pulling tomatoes from a canvas bag and setting them on the counter. 

"I woke up, and you weren't there," she said, and the reproach in her tone got Gendry's attention.

"I went to get groceries, I know you are very resourceful, but only beer and condiments seemed like a stretch to me."

Despite her desire to wallow in her foul mood, she found herself unable to tease back. 

"_O_ _ye, of little faith."_

"And anyway, it's payback for you falling asleep on me last night."

He ought to have felt offended if anyone asked him, though no one would, since he had been giving her a rather inspired oral worship when her legs had gone limp, and he started hearing very soft snores.

"Sorry about that," she replied, scrunching her face. 

"It's like I said it would happen," he teased her.

Arya stuck her tongue out, which prompted Gendry to give her a quick peck before starting with their breakfast. 

* * *

Arya joined Gendry on the couch after they were done, sitting astride on his lap. 

"Do you have a matinee today?" He asked, looking up and caressing her legs. 

"Nope. We're on a two-week hiatus now."

"Nice. Naked Sunday it is then," he said, starting to unbutton the button-up shirt she was wearing.

"Says the man who's fully dressed," she countered, batting his hands away after he got the three top buttons undone. 

"What are you going to do about it?"

Arya grasped the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it up until it was off. She then lowered her hands until she found the button. Arya got it undone and lowered his zipper without breaking eye contact. She could see the slight curl on the corner of his mouth, but they were both aware of the game they were playing. Instead, he hoisted himself up just enough, so she could pull his jeans down, which Arya did, making sure to take his boxers off at the same time. Once bare, she took her spot over his lap again, raising her eyebrow, calling for his move. Gendry didn't have to think twice to resume his endeavor of unbuttoning his shirt, and parting both sides, revealing the skin he coveted underneath. When Arya motioned to let the garment fall from her shoulders, he was quick to stop her.

"Keep it on."

"A bit egocentric to want me to keep your shirt on."

"Hey, it's a bit of a fantasy," he replied with a half shrug.

"You like fucking women wearing your clothes?"

"I never stayed long enough to have a woman wear my shirt," he confessed, "so I'm looking forward to this."

"Did you ever think about us?"

The question sprung from her lips too quickly for her to censor herself, and once out, she knew they'd be venturing into treacherous land and notions that she was not sure they were ready to accept.

"What do you mean?"

"Like this," Arya replied, looking down to her hands on his chest, and his on her hips. 

"Naked on our couch?" He asked, keeping the levity, and making her wonder if he didn't see the signs of danger like she did. 

"No," she was quick to answer, and she felt him wince slightly, "well yes, but I mean, did you ever think of me as more than your friend," once the words were out of her mouth she dared look up to his eyes.

He took a moment to ponder on her question and her skittishness suddenly made sense. There were big questions left unsaid in between them, and he sensed that she shared his fear of loss, but in a whole different way.

"Remember the day you came back from Braavos?" He asked then, "how old were you?"

"19. You picked me up at the airport."

"You were wearing jeans, too big for you," as he said that, his eyes were on his own hand, rubbing circles on her hip, under his shirt. 

"Jon's! I had that thick belt keeping them in place, but they were still too baggy."

Her eyes looked up, reminiscing, and Gendry smiled at the hint of that old Arya overlapping with the one on his lap. 

"They were down to your hips, and your top wasn't cropped, but when you moved, some of your skin showed," he continued, moving his fingers to the bit of skin that had peeked from under her top all those years ago. 

"I was wearing Doc Martens. I was so sweaty, and my hair was greasy. I hadn't showered in four days."

"You were tanned, and had these little freckles on your nose."

"I looked like shit," she said in defeat.

"You gave me an erection."

His words made her eyes do that thing that Gendry had always loved when she would be looking down, and something suddenly made them so big and open, and they lured him in.

"Are you shitting me?"

"Nope," he responded, over-emphasizing the 'p' sound, and then letting his lips break into a grin. 

"You never said anything."

"Tell my best friend, my only friend in the world really, who just came back from Braavos proclaiming she was done with sleazy men, that yes, I missed her like crazy, but for the first time I was noticing how soft the skin below her belly button looked and how the idea of running my fingers right here," he said, caressing the spot, "was giving me a hardon and I had no idea what she had been telling me for the last twenty minutes? Yeah, that wasn't going to happen."

They remained silent for a while until Gendry spoke again. 

"How about you?"

It was her turn to think back to who they used to be, and something compelled her to run her hand through his hair, still black and soft, but so much shorter than it was when they first met, when he was the sulking boy who wouldn't do anything but holding his mother's hand for hours. And then he had opened up to her because his mother had started talking to her. She remembered the first time he had made her feel so frustrated, and she had lashed at him, and instead of fighting back, he had given her a wide smile. 

"I had a crush on you," she said so quietly it was almost a sigh. 

"You did not," he said, shaking his head. 

"I did."

"When?"

"Way at the beginning, when we first met, in chemo."

His eyes finally showed that he had started believing what she was saying, "you never said anything."

"I looked half-dead, and I had no hair or eyebrows. And it's not like I looked that great before chemo, I was still in my ugly duckling stage."

"You have never been an ugly duckling," he countered, capturing the hand that was in his hair and bringing it to his lips, and then holding on to her hips once more. 

"You saw me bald."

"You were most definitely not ugly. And this," Gendry said as his hands slid up her waist, until his thumbs were just under her breasts, "this is fucking gorgeous."

With that, he sat up, and his lips searched for hers, his hands gliding around her torso, pulling her close. He liked the feeling of her perky breasts on his chest, the way her nipples hardened against him, and he let himself feel pleased with knowing it was him causing it. 

After kissing for a while, they broke apart and looked at each other in silence, sharing all the things that didn't need to be said out loud. 

Gendry brought his thumb to his mouth and dipped it, getting it wet. He then reached down between her folds, gently brushing her sensitive bud, making her eyelids flutter, and she bit her lower lip.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" She asked, and her voice came out huskier than she had intended. 

"Because I should be doing that."

With that, the hand that wasn't on her clit went to the back of her head, and he brought her face to his, so he could capture her lips again. Arya could feel the brewing desperation in him, picking up the momentum against her mouth and in between her legs. She felt herself heating up, with eyes closed, the rush of blood undoubtedly coloring her cheeks, and her chest; and pooling in her core, tightening against his thumb.

Arya was getting restless, swaying back and forth against him, her hands anchoring herself by grasping his shoulders tightly. Gendry's mouth was greedy, and it trailed down, marking its way down on her neck, and then on her chest, and lower, until it captured a rosy nipple. 

When she felt ready, she lifted her body on her knees and brought her hands down to search for him, and guide him into her warmth. Once he was sheltered inside of her, they both sighed in unison, and Gendry used all his willpower to stay still. 

"I love this moment," she said with eyes closed.

"What moment?" He asked hypnotized by the way she looked, atop him, shirt parted showing her milky breasts peppered with the red marks of his kisses, and joined with him.

"The moment it takes me to get used to you."

That was all the invitation he needed to have his hand wrap around her hip, his long fingers over her arse cheek, beckoning her to move, in counter rhythm to his own thrusts. His other hand didn't stop teasing her clit, determined to overwhelm her, and make her peak with his name on her lips. 

Arya could feel the burn on her legs and found herself panting out of breath. 

"Gendry," she sighed, leaning on him for support, "I can't keep up."

"I got you."

With that, he cradled her bum in his hands, and he flipped them, bringing her down to the sofa until she was on her back with and him on top, still nestled snuggly inside of her. Gendry was supporting his weight on his right forearm, chest flushed over hers, and he liked the image of the ring he wore around his neck resting over her velvet skin in between her breasts. 

"I like the way my ring looks on you."

Arya didn't reply, but instead, her hand hooked itself behind his neck, and she brought him down to kiss him. 

Once they found their rhythm again, they didn't have enough breath for words anymore, much was said with moans and sighs, and their eyes made promises that they were still not ready to make. Gendry had brought his thumb back, playing with the pressure and the motion, until she felt herself come undone, and he followed her down, the look of bliss on her face pushing him beyond the brink.

When he was able to breathe evenly again and remembered his own name, he pulled himself off of the crook of her neck, and he looked at her still gasping, head stretched back, rose-cheeked, and with a sheen on her skin from their exertion. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, that held the same fervor of a promise, and he heard Arya hum her delight. That sound made him feel light and wanted to keep her making it for as long as he could stretch time. It was then that she opened her eyes, and they looked at each other for a minute that felt eternal, until the spell broke and they smiled at each other. Arya noticed that there was some level of bashfulness to Gendry's smile. 

"What?"

"What what?" He asked, confused. 

"You have that stupid look on your face."

"I was thinking that next time your siblings come for a visit, I will not be able to keep a straight face, knowing I made love to their sister on this very sofa."

"Dude! Don't talk about my siblings when you are still inside of me," she chastised him, play-hitting him on the arm.

Gendry just chuckled and moved away. He reached to the floor, looking for his t-shirt, which he then used to clean them both. Once he was done, he sat back and pulled Arya to sit sideways on his lap, and he held her close, with her head resting on his chest. 

"What are your plans for these two weeks if you don't have work? Wait, do you still have your lessons?"

"No moody teenage music lessons, thank the gods. They're all in exams, but I do have my music for kids' class on Thursday."

Gendry liked the excitement in Arya's voice whenever she spoke of the little kids she taught.

"You like those ones, right?" He asked, looking down.

"I do," she replied, she looked up to him, and a thought came to her, as she looked into the blue of his eyes.

"Hey, would you like to come with me this Thursday? You could bring your guitar."

"I'd like that."  
____

Gendry had never been particularly interested in children. While he'd admit that there was a high chance that he would end up being the grumpy old man yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off his lawn, presently, he just felt indifferent to them. As they walked to the community center, where Arya taught her music class for children, he could sense her nervous energy. Once they arrived, she had busied herself setting up the instruments: claves, tambourines, and little drums. 

When the children had started filing into the classroom, they went straight up to Arya and hugged her. Noticing Gendry, they had looked at him as one would a monster, just conjured out of thin air. Gendry had smiled awkwardly and greeted them as they all did the same while remaining skeptical. When they were all there, and Arya had finished ushering the curious parents out of the room, she had greeted them and finally addressed the proverbial elephant in the room.

"Hey guys, I want to introduce you to someone, this is my best friend Gendry," she said with her hand touching his shoulder. 

Arya knew it, the moment the words' best friend' left her lips, that it had been out of habit, but at that moment, for the first time, they no longer seemed large enough to contain who Gendry was in her dwindling life. She wasn't sure, but she sensed the slight flinch in him as she introduced him. If there was one, his voice didn't betray it.

"Hello, guys! Like Miss Arya said, my name is Gendry, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if I stuck around today and played with you."

After saying that, he reached behind him to slide the acoustic guitar he had strapped to his back forward.

"This one here is my guitar, and I don't know if you know this, but special guitars have names."

Arya smiled, knowing what he was doing, and as expected, the little kids were quick to make the question Gendry had prompted. 

"What's her name?"

"Ah, good question, this one here is 'Lucy.'"

Some of the bolder ones had ventured close to him and touched the shiny pale wood, and the star and diamond decals on its body. 

"Why is her name Lucy?" Asked Lyla, the chattiest of Arya's kids.

"Well, you see, my mum's favorite song ever was 'Lucy in the sky with diamonds,' by the Beatles."

Arya loved when Gendry was able to talk about Anna with a smile on his face, and not the heavy burden of regret that sometimes chased him along with his memories of her. She wanted to keep that joy for him, and she added something she knew would make the kids go crazy:

"And, there is something else that makes Lucy special, ask Gendry where he got her."

"Where did you get it?" They asked, almost in a chorus.

"I didn't get her anywhere, I built her myself," he said, looking at Arya with a teasing smile, knowing that she was getting the kids to warm up to him. Of course, the revelation of Gendry building his own guitar got them all excited and asking all sorts of questions. After a while, Arya had to get the class started, and as she was giving directions, a little voice asked the question that had seemed to be brewing in all the young minds.

"Is he your boyfriend, Miss Arya?"

The question caught Arya unprepared, and she cursed at herself internally when she felt her cheeks warming up, she turned to her side to see Gendry looking at her, with a glint in his eye waiting for her answer. Arya Stark was not someone who scared easily, or even at all, but for some reason, she found herself stumbling with her words, as she could hear the kids giggling. She looked at Gendry and pleaded with him silently for help. 

"Am I her boyfriend if I do this?" Gendry asked, and he swiftly slid his guitar back and caught her unaware with a kiss to her lips. His left hand was gently cradling her cheek, while his right was holding the guitar in place. The kiss was perfectly chaste, long enough to not be considered a peck, but not too enticing to be inappropriate. It still made her dizzy, and when he let go, she had to keep her eyes closed for a few seconds to find her bearings.

"Yeah," she said in defeat, "he is my boyfriend."

* * *

When they were back in their apartment, they collapsed on the couch, but neither of them moved for the remote. A fleeting thought came to Arya as she cuddled against his chest, of how it had barely been a week since their relationship had changed, and even less since sex had been part of the equation, and yet there was such an easiness to it.

"What's new about Sansa?" Gendry asked.

"How should I know?"

"You speak with her every weekend, and you didn't this past one, nor I have been aware of you talking so far this week."

"I've been rather occupied," she explained, looking up with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I'm aware, I was there," he said, grinning, "I thought you would have talked to her by now."

"I haven't."

"Why?"

"I'm not in the mood to talk to Sansa," she said, looking away, and settling her head back on him.

"You're evading her."

Arya just grunted against his chest. 

"Have you talked to any of your brothers?" Gendry continued prying.

"No, but I don't talk to them often. It's just Sansa who needs to keep tabs on all of us."

"Not even Jon?"

"He's been on assignment and hasn't had a lot of time to talk. I text with him, and a bit with Robb and Bran. I only know Rickon is alive because Sansa hounds him, and she lets me know."

Gendry knew what he was walking into, but he had never shied away from calling Arya on her bullshit, just like she did with his. 

"You don't think it is important to talk to them, now more than ever?"

"About what? Us?" She asked, moving away from his lap, and sitting on the sofa facing him. 

"I know what you're doing, but I'll bite," Gendry replied, crossing his arms over his chest, "yeah, for one."

"I want to keep this between us, for now," Arya's eyes were down, suddenly too interested in the fabric of their sofa. 

Gendry didn't say anything, but Arya could read the disapproval in his silence.

"What's wrong?"

"Why does anything have to be wrong?"

"Gendry Baratheon, I know you better than anyone else, and I can tell when you are pissed off."

"I am not pissed off. I just wish you would talk to your siblings."

"It's not like I'm ashamed of this, of us. I just want time."

Gendry huffed in defeat. He also wanted time, he wanted time to stretch infinitely. 

"You're the idiot if you think this is about your family knowing what's between us. I don't give a fuck if you want them to know or not. Yes, it would be infinitely better if I don't have to stop myself from touching you or kissing you when they're around, but right now the only thing bothering me is that you haven't shared with them what's going on with you."

As if conjured by their conversation, Arya's phone started ringing. They both looked at it, but neither moved towards it. 

"Are you not going to pick up?"

Arya looked at the name flashing on the screen.

"You just had to say her name," she said, rolling her eyes.

"And what? She's Beetlejuice? You honestly think I made her call you? Why won't you talk to her?"

With that, the phone went silent.

"I told you I'm not in the mood tonight."

Gendry would have said something else at that moment, but his own phone started ringing then.

"Don't you dare pick up," Arya warned him, but Gendry picked it up and clicked to answer, looking at her defiantly.

"Hi Sansa," he greeted her, making sure he was facing Arya, and she could see his smug face, "doing well, how about you?"

Arya stood up and eyed him with a sly smile on her lips. She then shed her jeans, making sure to lower them slowly. Once she stepped off of them, she climbed on his lap, prompting Gendry to look up, and his smile disappeared. She lifted herself on her knees, and she reached back to unhook her bra under her top. 

"Same old. Maintenance of the regulars," Gendry replied Sansa's question, but the change in his tone and the way his eyes would not leave her to let her know that she had him.

Arya then took one bra strap out through the armhole and pulled her arm free, and then went to do the same with the other one.

"One new restoration project, yes, it's challenging, but I think she'll be a beauty when I'm finished," he continued, hoping that was the right answer to whatever Sansa had asked him. 

She then reached through her collar and removed her bra, challenging him with a raised eyebrow.

"Arya?" Gendry asked, letting her know what Sansa was saying, "I think her phone battery may be dead."

Arya started to smile, as she lowered herself on him, thinking she had won that round.

"But here she is," he said then, "let me put her on."

'Bastard,' she mouthed as he shrugged and smiled.

"Hey, Sans, I didn't realize you called me. Yes, my phone is dead."

'Talk to her.' 

'What does it look like I'm doing?' She mouthed back.

'For real.'

"Nothing new, really."

The gauntlet was thrown, and so Gendry's hand reached under her top and massaged the underside of one breast with the back of his fingers. 

'Tell her.'

"I'm not hiding anything. I don't know what you are going on about. I think you may be a little paranoid." 

Gendry's thumb started massaging a nipple in soft circular motions.

"Nothing is wrong, what do you mean?" The sensation made her eyes closed, but she forced them open. When she did, she was able to see Gendry's frustration.

'Tell her.'

Arya shook her head and continued talking, "Anyway, what's new with you?"

At that, she felt Gendry lifting her top and taking the other nipple in his mouth, making her moan.

Sansa heard that. 

"What?" She said when her sister asked about the sound, "nothing, I was just thinking that your roast sounds delicious, and I'm quite hungry. Actually, we were just about to have dinner ourselves, so I have to run. Love you, Sans!" And she hung up.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked, pushing Gendry back, and making him pull on her nipple just a bit before he let go. 

"That was you not talking to your sister."

"I was talking to her," she responded, pulling her t-shirt down, covering her breast, but she remained sitting on his lap, with Gendry's hand on her hip steading her. Gendry had laid his head back on the cushion behind him. 

"You were deflecting."

"Why are you all of a sudden so invested in my relationship with my sister? It is not like Sansa is your favorite person in the world."

"No, she is not, you are!" He yelled in frustration, gently moving her off of him and standing up to pace the room, "I've already told you I don't want to lose you."

"How is me talking to my sister going to stop that?" Arya asked, getting up herself.

"You know."

"Because she'll try to force me to get treated?"

Gendry's silence said it all.

"I guess you would rather sleep alone tonight," she added, as she picked up her jeans and started walking towards her bedroom.

"No, I would not," he said, holding on to her wrist and keeping her from leaving. 

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it."

The way Arya had said those last words, looking directly into his eyes, had been the last drop, and all the fear and fury came pouring out.

"I love you! I love you, and it is going to break me to lose you!"

Love had a way to hurt sometimes, and Arya felt his words were a stab to the gut. 

"You haven't lost me _yet_," she said quietly. 

It was that last word that opened old wounds and salted the furrow it plowed. 

"I don't want to lose you _ever_."

Gendry thought it madness that only then they were naming their pain. 

"No one lives forever," Arya reminded him.

"You should," he said with eyes full of unshed tears, and they ripped a sob out of her.

"You promised me a month."

"It's not fair," he replied, shaking his head.

"Let me just have that," she pleaded, taking his hands in hers, "a month when we are just happy, and we can pretend that this is true, and death is not coming for me."

"This is real," he said as his large hands held her face, making her look at him, trying to convince her that for him, it wasn't just about fulfilling her wish.

Arya understood what he was saying, but too much was still suspended in the charged air, that there was only one thing left to say.

"Then show me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I feel shaky after all the work editing and proofreading took, of course, I'm sure I missed a ton of things, but I'll come back and fix them. 
> 
> Thank you all who are still invested in this story. Your time and words mean the world to me.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It picks up from the previous chapter: 
> 
> "This is real," he said as his large hands held her face, making her look at him, trying to convince her that for him, it wasn't just about fulfilling her wish.
> 
> Arya understood what he was saying, but too much was still suspended in the charged air, that there was only one thing left to say.
> 
> "Then show me."
> 
> Arya and Gendry reach a compromise. Arya meets Jaime Lannister at Gendry's workshop. Arya finally calls her sister, and many lies and half-truths are shared. Arya and Gendry travel to Lys and forget reality for a while. Sansa worries and reaches out to Jon. After a momentous development in her life, Sansa feels the need to reconnect with her mother through an object that Arya has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the Gendrya Gift Exchange detoured me a bit longer than what I had planned, and then there were the holidays, but about a month after the last update, here is finally chapter six.

[ ](https://imgur.com/56S33vU)

_'Then show me.'_

Gendry's hands held on to her, to convince her skin, and her limbs and her flesh that her place was against him, in his arms. His lips found Arya's, and they wrote messages about the many signs and omens that foretold their love. His heart beat a rhythm in code, and he hoped that hers would follow his lead, both of them always in unison.

"I want to lie down," Arya asked, and he led her to her bed.

She didn't let go of his hand, and eyes that were hard to deny set on him as she begged him, "can you hold me?"

"Always," Gendry swore, lying down, letting her drape herself over him, her head on the place it belonged: above his heart. 

Arya could hear his heartbeat, and the song it played. _'Presto,' _she thought, as the tempo told her of his fear. There were no secrets left in between, just the things they were running out of time to say. 

She'd have to make time for those, and soon.

"Gendry?"

"Yes?"

"You're the love of my life," she revealed as easily as she could say her own name, "I thought you should know."

His chest made a sound very close to a howl as he drew Arya closer and buried his face on the crook of her neck. He didn't know if Arya could feel the moisture of the tears he was trying hard not to shed, but soon her hands were in his hair, comforting him. He broke away just enough to look into her steel eyes, and then he kissed her softly. 

There was something in the middle of his chest, a need he didn't have a name for. He held her body closer, almost as if trying to merge both of them into one body. Gendry had never experienced a desire like that before, an imperative need to sate the soul.

Arya ran her hand up and down Gendry's back as he made love to her as if trying to escape from the world, and so she did her best to hide him away within her.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Gendry traced the patterns of the sunlight that filtered through the half-open blinds over Arya's skin. Why had they waited this long to let their love find the way to that very moment? He wondered if they had always been heading there or if it was only the kick in the gut that was the threat of losing her the only reason why they had gotten together.

There was a question in the back of his mind that he had been trying to avoid: if Arya had not gotten sick, would they had still gotten together? And what was worse, would he rather there was never the threat of her untimely death but never experience the privilege of holding her like that in his arms?

It was then that Gendry felt her waking, evident in the change of her breathing and the beat of her heart.

"Hey," she greeted him as she turned.

"Hey, love."

"What are you thinking?"

"About you," he replied, surprising himself with his honesty.

"I don't want us to fight anymore," she declared, prefacing her kiss. "I just want us to love each other."

"Do you honestly believe there is a chance we don't ever fight again?" Gendry asked with a grin.

"No, but I guess it is not so bad if we get to make up like this," she responded, taking a moment to run her eyes over their bare bodies.

"I did make you a promise," Gendry said, using all his willpower to throw in an olive branch. "I said I would give you a month."

It was not that Arya didn't understand what she had asked from him. Or that she was the heartless thrill seeker that her siblings so often claimed her to be. But a life of heartache had moulded her.

Oh, she knew what unbelievable price she had asked him to pay for the promise of having a few untarnished memories. She was more than aware that the privilege of having a pure unadulterated taste of love that she could ride into the darkness was a hefty sum Gendry would have to pay the boatman in raw sorrow.

"I railroaded you," she admitted, not feeling proud of herself.

A deep sigh from his chest made her shake.

"You think I'm not able to say no to you?" He asked, with those unforgiving blue irises of his. "It may be hard, but I can say no. I'm no pushover. Arya."

"What are you saying, then?"

Gendry took a second to reply, playing with her hair.

"I'm saying that I want it too, a month of nothing but you."

"A month, then?"

"Yes, but not from today. From the night I kissed you for the first time."

It wasn't yet two weeks from that kiss, and it already felt like a lifetime ago. A kiss that, despite all that she had been saying, she had not seen coming. She thanked her lucky stars for Gendry having gone all in at that particular crossroads of their lives.

"Can we stay like this forever?" She asked with words, and without them_, 'however long we can stretch forever.'_

"I'd love to, sweetheart," he added, "but I got to go to work. But stay naked in bed, and I'll come back to join you at soon as possible."

She let out a belly laugh that fed his soul.

"Man, you got it bad for me."

* * *

Gendry could lose himself in his craft. 

He loved the way his hands could take over and work metal and wood, making the world outside disappear. Many times he'd looked up to notice hours had slipped by while he worked on an instrument. He had been on the zone when something pulled him from his trance, and he sensed Arya before her steps leading her into his workshop had announced her. It took a lot not to turn back to see her, but he was well rewarded when her slender arms hugged him from behind.

"What good deed did I do to deserve this?" He asked, taking one of her hands to his mouth to place a quick kiss on it. 

Arya went around Gendry, and she sat on the countertop where he had been working, pulling him by his button up to stand in between her legs.

"I just felt like bringing food so we could have lunch together," she replied with a shrug, "and who knows, maybe have crazy sex over your workbench."

Gendry cradled the back of her head, and he gave her a deep but brief kiss, and then lifted her from the bench and deposited her back on the floor.

"Over my expensive tools? I don't think so."

"Point me towards the cheap ones then," she countered without missing a beat.

Gendry chuckled and gave her a quick peck. 

"As tempting as that sounds, I'll have to take a rain check. I got someone dropping by shortly."

"Is this about your other lady?" She asked, raising an eyebrow mockingly.

"Well, it is about a lady. Want to meet her?"

He then picked up the instrument from his workbench and showed her the Gibson Les Paul he had been working on. There were no strings on it, and the surface had clearly been treated with wood filler and sanded to a uniform texture, but the machine heads and pickups were clearly new. 

"So, this one here is _Oathkeeper_."

"She is beautiful," Arya noted, running her fingers over the newly smoothed surface. "How much more do you have to do?"

"I'm done with the heavy lifting, it's mainly vanity work now, paint and varnish."

She turned on her heel and gave Gendry that look that she knew he couldn't resist, "can I stay and meet Brienne?" 

Gendry smirked, knowing what she was doing.

"You can stay and meet_ Jaime Lannister_, who's coming to check on the progress," he said after dropping a kiss to her forehead. "Sadly, no Brienne today."

"Bummer. I really would have liked to meet Brienne and not Jaime _fucking_ Lannister."

"Hey, he's the one paying me, so keep that to yourself."

* * *

It hadn't taken long after they had finished their lunch for Jaime Lannister to arrive, the man entered the room after Gendry buzzed him in with the very look of someone who had been brought up wanting for nothing. Arya had always been skeptical of those who went about life easily as if everything always made perfect sense to them, and there were no obstacles in their path. Gendry had never been more welcoming himself, still leery of those who had come to the banquet of life and been served on a silver platter. 

Unless they were a paying client. 

He greeted Gendry more warmly than what Arya would have imagined, and then, he had looked her way.

"Is this your woman?" Jaime asked, tilting his head towards Arya.

If her eloquent eyebrows were not already predisposed to the man, referring to her in the third person instead of speaking to her directly surely made them sink in a deep frown.

Gendry was surprised he managed not to flinch at the way Jaime had referred to Arya as if she had not been right there. It was a dick move, but his trade had taught him to stomach dealing with people who oozed entitlement. 

"Arya is not-" he started to explain

"I am," Arya interrupted." Is this how you're going to keep yours?" She challenged him, looking towards the Les Paul. 

Gendry felt proud of Arya's comeback though he hoped he wasn't going to lose a customer over it. There were a few tense seconds of silence until Jaime's laughter roared.

"I like you," he finally said with a grin. "You play?"

"Arya is a concert cellist," Gendry pointed out.

"What are you doing slumming it with this one here, then?"

"The free instrument maintenance, mainly," Gendry joked.

"…And many, _many_ fringe benefits," Arya added.

"You are an idiot if you let this one go," Jaime said to Gendry with a wink.

"Wouldn't even dream of doing that."

"So, this one really used to belong to Brienne's grandfather?" Arya asked.

"It did, and the love of my life learned to play with this bad girl, here," he said, fishing his phone from his pocket and swiping until he found what he was looking for. "That was Edwyn Tarth," he said, showing them the picture of an older man with a little blonde girl sitting on his knee, and the mint color Gibson Les Paul. Edwyn's left hand seemed to be pressing the chords while the young Brienne strummed. 

* * *

The walk from Gendry's workshop to their flat was a short one, and Arya could have done it with eyes closed. After Jaime's visit, she had headed home and left Gendry to finish the things he still had left for the day. Arya decided to bite the bullet and make a call she had been dreading while she walked. She took her phone out and chose the name that occupied the third position in her favorites list. It only took one ring for the call to connect.

"Hey, Sansa." 

"Is this a miracle? Is this my long-lost sister?" 

Sansa's histrionics made her grimace.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Arya berated her sister. "Mum would have said it is beneath you."

"Fine," she heard Sansa sigh. "What's going on with you?"

"Why would anything have to be going on with me?"

"You haven't called in ages, and you have been dodging my calls."

She _had been _dodging her calls, but Arya wasn't going to give her older sister more fodder.

"I talked to you a few days ago."

"_Gendry_ talked to me," Sansa pointed out, "and handed you his phone to force you to talk to me. That's hardly the same."

That ability of Sansa to get under her skin and calling out the bits Arya wasn't ready to address was why she had been avoiding talking with her sister. Long gone were the days that Sansa had been her bitter enemy, days of name-calling spurred by childhood bad influences. Her relationship with her only sister was lightyears away from that, changing after their parents' death had drawn all the siblings together. They had all needed to share the sorrow with the only people in the world who had lost just as much.

No, her reluctance to talk to her sister was not due to a tarnished sisterly bond. Instead, it was due to the certainty that Arya had that talking to Sansa was akin to looking at herself in the mirror and trying not to notice all the bits she was not proud of.

"Fine! Argh!" Arya grunted.

"What?"

"I need to tell you something."

So many somethings to be said right then and there, and the part of her conscience that spoke with Gendry's voice taunted her as much as the real man would if he were there.

"What is it?"

There. The moment of truth.

"I'm going to Braavos."

And not one ounce of truth was spoken.

"Whatever for?" Sansa inquired. "Isn't the symphony season still going?"

"We're on a short hiatus, but Syrio wants me to go for a little while."

"How long?"

"A month."

Lies were bad. 

At least that was what her mother always told her and her siblings. Lies were insidious, and they multiplied like bacteria. _'Like cancerous cells,'_ Arya's psyche joked. 

Her father, on the other hand, had been of a different opinion. 

There were different types of lies. Blaming Bran or Rickon for ruining one of Sansa's perfect baby dolls was definitely the wrong type of lie. Denying having seen a red-headed girl come out of Jon's room one morning, when it was still dark out, only wearing her brother's shirt and looking for the bathroom, was a lesser type of lie. And then there were the lies her dad had called _merciful lies_, as he looked away, past Arya, into a life that was surely gone, keeping to himself the lies he had been forced to keep.

She would never get the chance to compare her own lies with those of Ned Stark, but something in her gut told her that this one counted as a merciful one.

"What are you going to be doing there?" Her sister asked.

"Guest soloist spot."

"Are you going to be seeing... what was his name?"

"Jaqen?"

"Jaqen H'ghar! Yes! Him."

"No, I'm not."

"I always thought you had a thing with him."

Arya tasted bile in her mouth. If it had been up to Jaqen, she would have, but her starstruckedness had died when it was clear the man was only trying to turn her into another notch on his bedpost.

"I didn't! What's with you and Gendry?"

"What about Gendry?"

"He also thought I had a relationship with Jaqen."

Sansa's silence unnerved Arya. Surely her sister was joining the dots.

"Did you?" She finally asked.

"No, I'm not into cult leaders. Anyways, Jaqen is currently playing in Dorne or Highgarden, I don't really know… or care."

"When are you leaving? Maybe we could meet before you leave."

If speaking on the phone with her sister was difficult, she knew for sure she couldn't meet in person and not have everything she rather keep to herself still come out in the open.

"Tomorrow. Very early. Sorry, it was a last-minute thing."

Sansa groaned.

"You will need a ride to the airport. I could come into the city and pick you up."

"No, Gendry is taking me. Listen, Sans, I promise we'll meet when I'm back. It's just one month. It's not like I'm dying."

Poor choice of words.

"Don't joke with that," Sansa chastised her. "Have you talked to Jon? Or the others?"

"No, could you let them know?"

Sansa felt herself grunting. She did not grunt, but her sister had a knack for eliciting all sorts of unusual reactions in her. If there was something Arya didn't want to say directly to her siblings, she would simply unload it to her and have her inform the rest. Something big was happening or about to happen, Sansa could feel it in her bones.

"You're testing my patience."

"It's your fault for becoming the mother hen of this family."

They had all reacted differently when their parents had passed. Robb had needed to form his own family. Soon after, he had found Talisa, and it hasn't been long before they had started their own family. Jon had joined the armed forces. Arya had gone off exploring as soon as her health had permitted it. Bran had grown quiet and devoted himself to his studies. And Rickon? Rickon had gone wild.

Sansa had needed her mother so that she had started doing things that Catelyn used to do. Soon enough, she had turned into the _de facto_ mother of their family, whether she liked it or not.

"Promise me you'll call," she asked, giving up on not acting like Arya's mother.

Arya knew she couldn't do this once more, she knew she was selfish, but she needed to forget about endings.

"Can't promise that. It's going to be a gruelling schedule. I promise I'll text, though."

"At this rate, my best bet is to take Gendry out for lunch and learn about my sister through her best friend."

"No!"

That had been a knee jerk reaction, and Arya internally kicked herself for that. 

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, Gendry is traveling as well."

"Does Gendry have a soloist spot at some place's orchestra as well?"

"Don't be daft Sansa," Arya berated her sister, both for her reaction and to give herself a few moments to come up with an excuse, "he took a spot touring with Anguy."

"Fine," Sansa replied in defeat. "Love you."

"I love you too."

There, a truth she could afford to say out loud.

* * *

By the time Gendry reached their building, he could hear Arya playing her cello. He usually could tell what her mood was based on the piece she was playing. Chopin was always for when she was feeling melancholic about her parents and the life she lost. Shostakovich, he had learned, was reserved for when she was pissed off. The piece he could hear, as he put the key in the keyhole, was something new, nothing he could identify beside the tempo suggesting a tango. It sounded like she was experimenting.

Arya experimenting with music meant that anything was possible. 

"_Honey_, I'm home," he called out of habit. 

Gendry could see Arya from the back, wrapped around her cello, head slightly tilted, with the threadbare t-shirt she wore falling off her left shoulder, and an elegant right hand extending away from her, holding her bow. 

Fuck lingerie and lap dances. 

Well, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but this, Arya so consumed with music, legs bare framing her cello, was the thing that reduced him to the randy teenager he used to be. 

By the time he had made his way to her, the piece was ending. Arya felt the weight of Gendry's hand on her bare shoulder while his other one went up the tower of her neck until it reached her chin and he tilted her head back, so she was looking at him upside down. 

"Hi," he said with a grin before bending over to kiss her upside down, both of them greedily capturing a bottom lip.

"Is this just for my pleasure? Playing in knickers and," he said while he hooked a finger on the collar of her thin t-shirt and lifted it to reveal a bare breast underneath, "no bra, as I suspected."

Arya pulled her shirt off his fingers and batted his hand away.

"I enjoy playing without feeling constricted, this is in no way meant for your benefit."

"A huge tragedy that the world won't ever know about the full extent of your talent, but a great gain for me."

"Idiot," she replied, and extended her neck to give him a quick peck, before extricating herself from there, and setting her cello on its stand, while Gendry walked towards their kitchen.

"What's new?" Gendry asked as he pulled a couple of beers from the fridge.

"I spoke with Sansa."

That he had not been expecting. 

"Really? How is she doing?" He asked after twisting the cap off one of the beers. "Are you seeing her soon?"

"She's fine and no," Arya replied, meeting him in the kitchen and taking the other beer from his hand, "she's going on holiday with Theon."

"Is she? Where are they going?"

"Visiting Theon's sister in Pyke first, and then heading south to Highgarden," she lied.

"Sounds nice," he replied before taking a swig from his beer. "We should do that."

"Going to Pyke, no. Going to Highgarden, doubly no."

"No, I mean, go away."

"Where?"

"I don't know. You have time off, we could go somewhere. You can finally show me all your haunts in Braavos, or some other free city."

The thought was promising, but the whole place reminded Arya too much of Jaqen. 

"How about Lys?" She asked, instead.

"Lys, huh? Fancy taking me to one of its pleasure houses?" Gendry asked with a wink.

"Maybe," she replied, letting her eyebrow raise and taking a moment to check him out top to bottom. 

"Can you afford to take time off?"

"Well, I'm ahead with the Gibson, and in any case, Jaime told me Brienne, and he will be abroad for the rest of the month, and Anguy is going on tour."

Good, at least one thing she said to Sansa was true, even if she didn't know it at the time. 

"Let's do it then," Arya agreed, pulling out her phone to check flights. 

* * *

It had been a spontaneous decision, using savings for rainy days to purchase two cheap tickets to Sunspear, and then a puddle jumper to Lys. Gendry had never been to Essos, and while Arya had, she had never been to the isle of Lys. It would have been nice to show him the canals of Braavos and share the authentic taste of Braavosi cuisine, but she liked this better: a place that was new to both of them. 

Arya smiled as they walked hand in hand in the esplanade, the soft sea breeze blowing her hair. The sea of Lys had the same bright blue hue of Gendry's eyes, and the salty air reminded her of the taste of his skin. The thought enthralled her, and she stopped right there, pulling their intertwined hands to make Gendry get closer, getting on her tiptoes to kiss his neck, warm from the Lyseni sun. 

"What was that for?"

"A sudden craving I got," she said with a smile.

"Honeymooners," a singsong voice called. 

They both turned to face an older woman, sitting on a foldable wooden chair and holding a parasol. The lady tilted her head, so his wrinkled eyes were visible, over the big sunglasses she wore.

"What was that?" Arya called to her, her smile noticeable in her tone, even if Gendry couldn't see her face as she looked toward the woman.

"I can always tell," the lady added, waving them to approach her. "Newlyweds all have those telltale signs."

"We're-" Gendry started to explain, as Arya pulled him with her.

"Yes," she interrupted him, giving him little time to realize she wanted him to follow her lead, "just last weekend. How can you tell?"

"Well, the _'not being able to keep hands off each other,' _for starters, but this is Lys, and Lys is for lovers after all. No, there is something in the eyes. The whole _'looking for your future in your partner's eyes' thing."_

_'Future' _was a dirty word for Gendry, at least. 

"You got us," Arya said, crouching until she could look at the woman, eye to eye, her hand holding a tanned and wrinkly one, over the lady's lap.

"Keep that going, dear," the woman encouraged her, with her free hand on Arya's cheek. "People tend to forget."

"We will," Gendry vowed.

* * *

That night, when they made it to their room, the gorgeous weather prompted them to open the glass doors on all three sides of the large bed, Arya walked outside, to the spacious balcony, to lean over the railing and look at the starry night. 

"So," he said, embracing her from behind, and burying his face in her hair, "what can you see in my eyes?"

Arya turned, so her lower back was against the railing, her hands were around his neck, and his went around her waist. 

"I can see my present in your eyes," she said, giving him all she had to bargain with.

"We should do it."

"What?"

"Not just _look_ like newlyweds," Gendry replied, holding her closer to him.

"You're joking," Arya said, sliding her hands up his neck until they were cradling his strong jaw.

"I'm not."

Arya could see in his eyes that he was serious.

"I won't do that to you."

"Marrying me?" He asked, and his voice betrayed him, showing a bit of disappointment.

"No," she answered, looking down, "making you a widower."

They stayed like that for a bit, without saying anything. The waves crashed at least three times before Gendry found the voice to say, "that's what I'll be, even if you don't."

Arya's head came to rest on his chest.

"You promised. We came here for happiness."

"I know, I know," he said, pulling her face up. "No talk about that. But I would do it, this very moment if you said yes."

Arya considered it for just a second. 

"Then, what does it matter if there is a piece of paper or not?" She asked him. "Everything I own will go to you anyway."

"I don't want your possessions. I just want to be yours."

"You already are, and I'm already yours."

"Yeah?" He asked with a smile. "Show me then."

Arya pulled herself up by his neck, knowing he would hold her, as she wrapped her legs around him, she kissed him softly. Gendry walked them back into the room, moving the sheer veil that hung from the canopy aside to lay her in the middle of the plush bed, and he climbed on top. 

"I love you," Arya said, running her fingers over the stubble on his cheek, "I think I may have loved you like this all along, even if I didn't realize it."

"You are the love of my life," he said against her lips.

"Yeah?" She asked, making him look in her eyes.

Gendry just nodded.

Arya raised herself, causing Gendry to sit on his haunches. She unbuttoned the thin shirt he wore and took the time to savor the sight of his bare torso, as she pushed the garment to fall from his shoulders. Gendry's lips curled to one side slyly and looked down at the gauzy strap dress Arya was wearing. His hand then went to the hip, where a bow held it together, and his long fingers held on to one of the ties, pulling it ever so slowly, letting the whole thing become loose, revealing a lot more than a hint of her breasts. 

They took the rest of their clothes off, and Arya wrapped herself around Gendry as he sat on the bed. Outside, the waves crashed, setting a rhythm that went along with their sighs and moans. Gendry lost himself in the gray of her eyes as she lowered herself on him. He loved the way her lips parted and how the growing blush of her cheeks highlighted the few freckles the Lyseni sun had uncovered. Arya must have been doing her own share of marveling at his face as her lips started curling, and she guided his lips to hers. Before long, as the sea prompted by a storm, their tempo quickened. Arya's thighs felt the burn, and Gendry aided her with his large hands on her waist. He sensed when she got closer when her lids closed, and she bit her bottom lip, but her eyebrows let him know that something was keeping her on the edge, impeding her free fall. His right hand looked for the place where they were joined, and his thumb traced languid circles on her clit, easing her into her bliss.

His name on her lips as she peaked was all he needed to surrender to his own pleasure. 

* * *

  
  


They watched the sunsets from their room, and visited the bathhouses, taking advantage of the hedonistic way of life of Lys. Arya took pleasure in her skin being rubbed with fragrant oils that later at night, Gendry would task himself with transferring onto his own. He enjoyed loving her with the doors to the balcony open, making the tips of her breasts wet with his tongue and then seeing them puckered by the sea air.

Most of the old pillow houses of yesteryear had turned into trendy clubs with burlesque shows, drinks banned in Westeros, and hookahs with sweet tobacco laced with hashish. Arya and Gendry enjoyed it all, laughing and kissing amid new experiences. Arya giggled, as a Lyseni dancer taught her to belly dance tracing invisible infinity symbols with her hips while Gendry observed mesmerized. They bought an illustrated book in the museum of Lyseni pleasure houses and laughed, trying to replicate the most acrobatic of positions made famous by the courtesans of Lys.

It was easy to forget things in Lys when the sun kissed Arya's cheeks and tinted them rosy when exotic dishes made her dig in more than he had seen her do in weeks, and they blended in the many couples that came to the island for love. But then he would remember, when it took her a little too long to catch her breath after making love and how it was difficult to rouse her in the morning.

It had been hard to leave Lys after their trip was up, but there was new complicity between them, and their month was not over yet. 

Once back at their flat, Gendry had busied himself unpacking while Arya printed a few photos of both of them from their trip and pinned them to the board where all the postcards from her previous adventures hung. After Arya had gone to sleep that night, Gendry picked up one that had been taken by a kind stranger. As they were posing, something had possessed Gendry to surprise Arya with an impromptu kiss, and he turned her face with his hand toward him, making her ponytail blurry in the process. It was candid and imperfect, but it was real.

Gendry smiled, relieving the sensation he had felt in the moment. He looked at all the pictures on the board and realized suddenly what Arya had meant to do with it: all those precious moments were frozen in time, perpetually happening. Arya jumping off a cliff, Gendry playing his electric guitar in a smoky bar, both of them taking shots of tequila, Arya getting a tattoo done, both of them hiking, and then all the snaps from their most recent trip. Arya had made sure she would live forever on that board and that he'd be transported to each moment when he saw them.

Gendry inhaled deeply and turned the picture. There, in Arya's askew handwriting, was the date and a short description: _'we were in love.'_

* * *

Arya could feel herself getting restless as the days after their trip went by. Soon, she went back to the orchestra and to excruciating one-on-one lessons with teenagers. She recognized what he was feeling as dull anxiety for her carefree time dwindling. Soon she'd have to face the music and share her less than good news with her siblings. 

And then, she'd have to make a decision and convince those who loved her to go along with it.

But despite the agonizing seasons with moody teenagers that tested her patience, and the chastising from Syrio for being a second too fast, there was Gendry and falling asleep in his arms every night. Some nights it would happen on their sofa before the film they were watching even ended, and he would carry her to bed. Many other times, it would happen after making love and taking the time to catch her breath.

Some days felt like Gendry had always been her boyfriend, when they did all the domestic things they always did, like grocery shopping and paying bills. She liked the monotony of it, the dull promise of doing all those things that needed to happen like time could stretch forever. Kisses on laundry days and heated fights about what to have for dinner. 

And then there were the times that they'd make passionate love against the front door having just made it inside in the middle of a storm before peeling wet clothes off and leaving little to the imagination of all their neighbors, and whoever happened to be in the hallway, with the rhythmic banging on the door. Those times when she'd be bent over the kitchen island or riding Gendry on the floor, and she would get a salacious notion in her head, that what she was doing was fucking her best friend silly.

* * *

Sansa had always imagined what she would do when it happened to her. After all, there were enough films to paint a picture, not to mention Pinterest boards. Oddly, she had not immediately taken a selfie and shared it on social media; she hadn't even texted her siblings about it or her best friend. Instead, after enjoying the moment with the man she loved, she had been unable to fall asleep.

Well into the night, she twirled the new ring on her finger and thought once more of those she lost. She looked at her phone for the eleventh time, and opened her text chats, moving from one sibling to another. She attempted to text Arya, feeling like this ought to be the moment a young woman would contact her sister, but knowing she was so far away in Essos stopped her. She then opened Robb's, but then checked the hour, and she feared that he may not have his phone on vibrate and she wouldn't chance waking his sleeping toddler or his pregnant wife. Bran or Rickon were out of the question. She opted for clicking on Jon's name to send him a message.

**Sansa:** Hey, sorry to bother you at this time, but tbh I've no idea what time it is wherever you are.

**Jon: **Hey, Sansa! No worries. Can't disclose where I am, but the sun is already out. How are you doing?

**Sansa: **Fine. I really shouldn't have bothered you.

**Jon: **What's going on? Everything okay with you and Theon?

**Sansa: **Yes, it's going splendidly, as a matter of fact. 

That was the moment that had prompted her late-night texting, and yet, she decided not to share her good news with her brother.

**Sansa: **It's just... For some reason, I'm worried about Arya. Have you heard from her?

**Jon: **I texted her a week ago, and she only responded, "Miss you! I'm in Essos, will text you when I can."

**Sansa: **Yes, she told me she'd be there for a month.

**Jon: **What's worrying you?

**Sansa: **I don't know. I just worry.

**Jon: **She's fine, Sans. You know you don't have to mother us all.

**Sansa: **You too? Arya was on my case about that.

**Jon: **I didn't mean anything bad by it, it's nice how much you organize this family, but...

**Sansa: **But?

**Jon: **It's not fair to you to carry on mortifying yourself for all of us. 

**Sansa: **You're right. But when Arya is back, let's get together, alright? Would you be able to come home at some point?

**Jon: **My assignment is almost over. Promise we will.

**Sansa: **Night, Jon.

**Jon: **Love you, Sansa.

**Sansa: **Ditto.

* * *

The following day Sansa felt less uneasiness regarding her sister, Theon's kisses, and him calling her his fiancée was partly responsible for it. The feeling she hadn't been able to shake was the sadness about thinking that her father wouldn't be walking her down the aisle and that her mother wouldn't be around to go with her dress shopping, or helping to usher her into married life as she so desperately wished. It didn't matter that nothing was going to change significantly since Theon and Sansa had lived together for over two years by then. 

As she drank her morning coffee, she had the painful need to feel her mother closer. She looked down once more to the elegant solitaire on her finger and thought of her mother's own engagement ring. She suddenly felt a pressing need to hold both her mother's and her own engagement rings in her hand. Arya and Sansa had kept Catelyn's jewelry, while their brothers had taken their father's wedding band and other special possessions. The task had been difficult, and the sisters had both decided to write in different pieces of paper each item of their mother's jewelry. Then they had folded them neatly, and taken turns pulling them from one of their father's hats one by one. Arya had kept Cat's engagement ring while Sansa kept her wedding band.

She needed to see both rings together and decided to ask her sister to lend it to her. Looking at her phone's call log, she quickly did the math and realized it would still be at least another week and a half before Arya came back from Essos. 

She couldn't wait that long. 

* * *

The morning Arya's merciful lies were exposed was a lazy Sunday, a little more than a week after they had returned from Lys.

The day before, Arya had played an earlier concert, and Gendry had waited once more outside of the musician's entrance holding her red Converse shoes and a pair of socks. Arya went back into the building to take off her stockings and put on her trainers instead of the uncomfortable shoes she was wearing. After that, they had walked to the pub, where they laughed, drank and kissed, no longer caring if the locals knew that they were together. They had eaten pub food and drank one more pint before they called it a night and walked back home hand in hand. 

They had fallen asleep after making love in Arya's bed, and they didn't bother setting up an alarm, having nothing planned for their Sunday beyond staying naked the whole day and eating leftovers. 

They were still asleep when the key Arya had given her sister turned in the keyhole, and neither the sound of the door opening nor the steps of Sansa and her husband-to-be coming into their apartment woke them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger, I know... 
> 
> I promise I'll do my best to get the new one soon. 
> 
> Looking forward to your thoughts!


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Theon walk on Arya in Gendry in bed. Both sisters share their very different news. There is a Stark sibling intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished. I have to admit that this one took a lot of me. While I had some of these scenes in my head for months, there was a lot of emotion and that took time to get right. 
> 
> To be honest, I'm not 100% sure I did the scenes justice, but I just can't work them anymore. 
> 
> Now, just before you start, please remember that I am not a doctor. So please, suspend your belief as you see fit.

Sansa second-guessed herself the moment the key didn't turn easily at the first try. It was given to her for emergencies three years before, and yet there hadn't been a reason to use it in the past.

Oddly enough, there had been no doubt when she made up her mind the night before, nor when she woke Theon up the next day to tell him what she planned to do. She hadn't even thought it a wrong decision when they both had taken the forty-minute car ride from the suburbs to Arya's flat downtown.

It had only happened as she was wiggling the key to make it budge.

Despite her sudden feelings on the matter, the need to feel her mother closer was becoming more urgent. The flame of Catelyn Tully Stark had never dimmed despite her passing, but yet, Sansa had found herself adrift, feeling the intensity of her absence all of a sudden. 

What she was about to do was reprehensible, but it couldn't be helped. Sansa eased her mind thinking that if anything, her sister would understand her impulsiveness if she knew why.

And besides, Gendry wouldn't even have to find out.

The flat was eerily silent, convincing Sansa that the sooner she got what she was there for, the faster they could leave and stop feeling guilty about it. She started walking towards her sister's room, not really paying attention to anything. Theon, unlike her, noticed the dishes in the kitchen and looked around to see Arya's cello on its stand.

"Sansa, honey, why did you say Arya went to Braavos for?"

"Playing in an orchestra there, why?"

"Just checking," he replied. 

He had started connecting the dots, but by the time it had all dawned on him, Sansa had already reached the bedroom. The door was ajar, allowing Sansa to see enough. What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks: two sleeping bodies, barely moving with their peaceful breathing.

Two  _ very _ clearly  _ naked _ bodies.

It took one, two, three breaths for Sansa's brain to take in what she was seeing.

It was more than clear that the man was Gendry, as he had his face towards the door. He was bare as his nameday, but thankfully, his private parts were obscured, despite it being clear that he did not have a stitch of clothing on him. His midsection was covered by the sleeping woman lying on top of him. She was facing down, wild hair spread around, and her backside barely covered by a sheet that revealed the dimples just above her arse. To top it all, Gendry's left hand rested possessively over the perky behind.

At first, Sansa's reaction had been to retreat her steps and leave before he woke, feeling mortified about breaking into his flat without permission and finding him in such a vulnerable state. Arya had been clear about him not being in town, though, so she assumed he had returned earlier than expected. 

Just when Sansa was taking a step back, embarrassed about her blunder, she looked around, and the objects in the room reminded her that Gendry was in her sister's bedroom instead of his. Sansa had always wondered about her sister's relationship with her best friend, and she suspected that there was much more there. She was almost sure Arya had feelings for her Gendry, and she felt herself lose her cool with what she perceived to be the man's betrayal.

"Are you kidding me?!" She exploded. "And in my sister's bed?!" 

* * *

Arya was having a rather vivid dream. She was falling through bubbles of color that burst when her body pierced them. Each explosion would tint the back of her eyes with a different hue and gave her a tingling sensation in her belly. In her dream, it made her giggle as she used to when her father would throw her in the air, and in her child's mind, she was sure one more throw, and she would reach the sky. Her mum would hate it, and beg Ned to stop and give her back her baby, but he would keep going while Arya kept giggling and yelling  _ 'more, more!' _

The last bubble had been a deep cherry red, and bigger than all the rest, Arya felt herself let go, enjoying the fluttering in her belly as she fell, but when her body punctured the red bubble, it shrieked.

Gendry didn't dream often, or if he did, it was rare for him to remember. _ 'You sleep like the dead,'  _ Arya used to mock him, but he always felt it was only that when Arya was around. That morning had not been an exception, and for all purposes, he had been dead to the world. The loud shrieking roused him, completely disoriented. His first instinct had been to look for Arya, and bring his other hand to her shoulder to make sure she was there and safe. Her head rose as he looked down, and they recognized each other for an instant, then they both looked towards the source of the yelling.

"What the fuck?! Sansa?!" Arya groaned over her shoulder, seeing her sister at the entrance of her room and Theon standing behind her.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Highgarden?" Gendry asked when he finally made sense of what was going on.

* * *

The moment the sleeping woman had turned her head, two notions dawned on Sansa. On the one hand, a sense of relief and elation realizing it was her sister, and not some random woman Gendry had screwed on her sister's bed. On the other, the horror at realizing her mistake, and the scene she had just caused.

But then again, she had been going on the information that her own sister had given her.

"Aren't you supposed to be on tour?!" was all that she thought to say to Gendry, and then she turned to Arya, "and you told me you'd be in Essos!"

Gendry was even more baffled then, unable to comprehend the words coming out of Sansa's mouth.

"We came back from Lys over a week ago," he explained, as his mind was trying to make sense of it all.

"Who said anything about Lys?" Sansa asked, confused, as she turned to her sister. "You said you'd be in Braavos for a month!"

"Braavos?" Gendry asked, looking at Arya, who parted her lips but only sighed.

The moment was broken by Theon, who got further into the room.

"Look at that!" He exclaimed, noticing Arya's state of undress. "Little Stark is tall enough to ride the bull now!"

"Shut the fuck up, Theon!" Arya yelled, as Gendry gently pushed her to his right along with the sheet, making sure she was covered. 

He then stood up abruptly, unconcerned with his nudity, and he walked to Theon with a menacing look on his face.

"Do not speak of her, Greyjoy."

"Could you please put on some clothes?!" Sansa exclaimed, looking away.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gendry protested, turning towards her and letting his temper get the best of him, "but you are the ones that let yourselves into our flat!"

Arya stood up, with the sheet tightly wrapped around her, and said, "I gave you that key for an emergency."

"It was an emergency!" Sansa yelled. "And I wouldn't have used it if I didn't think the flat would be empty!"

Gendry took a moment and closed his eyes, with his hand wrapped over his mouth and chin. 

"Sansa, Theon, could you go to the living room while we get dressed?" He heard Arya say. 

He opened his eyes to see them disappear behind the bedroom door while Arya stood with the sheet still tightly fisted in her left hand. She didn't move for a second until Gendry's voice interrupted her trance.

"So, let me get this straight. Sansa and Theon didn't really take a trip to Highgarden, I went on tour with Anguy? Maybe? And you are playing in Braavos. Did I get it right?" he recapped as he pulled up his boxer briefs over his legs.

"In my defense," she said, with her eyes opening wide with the look that had always been Gendry's weak spot, "I did not expect any of you to ever find out."

* * *

Sansa did not sit down while they waited, and instead, she paced nervously around the living room, while Theon rummaged in the small kitchen, as it were his own flat. It didn't take too long for the bedroom door to open, and Arya and Gendry came out, thankfully decent. Gendry was wearing black sweat pants and a simple white t-shirt, while Arya wore jeans and a gray button-up that Sansa would bet was Gendry's, with sleeves, rolled up, and the front tied into a knot. Arya's choice of clothes had not gone unnoticed, and Sansa was sure that it had not been an unintentional choice. 

"So, what was this emergency of yours?" Arya asked defiantly.

Sansa looked down at her hand and felt at a loss for words. She only shook her head, while her right hand covered her left.

"It's not important."

"Fuck it is, Sansa!" Theon exclaimed loudly from the kitchen. "Tell her what it was."

Arya turned to her sister, with her eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Sansa?"

"I just… I needed to hold mum's engagement ring," she let out in defeat.

"Why?" Arya inquired, crossing her arms.

"Because," she stopped for a moment, and after releasing a deep sigh, she continued, "I wanted to see it next to mine."

Her words were so quiet that it took a moment for them to make any sense to Arya and Gendry.

"You got engaged?" Arya finally asked.

Sansa sucked in her lips and nodded.

Without a word, Arya walked to her sister, and she hugged her fiercely. Despite the short height of her sister, Sansa finally felt the hollowness in her chest alleviate at least a bit. After a moment, they pulled away and smiled, both sisters brushing away tears.

"Are you happy? I mean, it is Theon after all," she said, making Sansa laugh.

Theon had smiled, but still, he grumbled, "low blow, little Stark."

Arya walked over to the kitchen and hugged her brother-in-law-to-be and said, "I'm glad you'll finally be my official brother, Theon."

Gendry offered his congratulations and even gave Sansa a small hug.

"Wait here," Arya comment as she turned around and ran back into her bedroom, leaving the three of them a bit confused. 

A few moments later, Arya remerged, walking directly to her sister and reaching for her hand.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Put your hand out," Arya ordered.

Sansa followed her instructions, and she felt her sister deposit something on her palm. Her eyes filling with tears when she realized what it was. 

Sansa didn't even have to look at it to recognize it, and instead said, "mum's ring."

"Yes, mum's ring," Arya confirmed. "Consider it your something old."

Sansa grinned widely as she slid it onto the ring finger on her right hand, and raising both hands side by side, fingers splayed.

"And something borrowed," Arya interrupted, grabbing her attention. "I still want it back."

Sansa nodded as she cradled her right hand in her left and brought it close to her chest.

"Thank you, Arya."

"She'd be so happy, Sansa."

Her sister's words make her tear up again.

"And she'd want you to enjoy this."

After the touching moment, the four of them just stared awkwardly at each other.

"Well…" Sansa spoke, breaking the silence and wiping her tears with a tissue she got from her sleeve. "Are you going to elaborate on this new… development?" by her index finger moved between her sister and Gendry.

Arya shrugged and simply said, "what's there to say? I think the whole nudity thing was pretty self-explanatory."

"The lies about going abroad were for what?" Sansa asked, raising an eyebrow, "ensuring there'd be no distractions for this sex-fest you two have going on here?"

"It's not a sex-fest!" Arya yelled.

"It's a relationship," Gendry protested at the same time.

"You could have just said so. Everyone's been waiting for you two to stop fooling yourselves, right Theon?"

"I mean," Theon contributed, making them turn towards him and realize he had helped himself to a beer from their fridge, "you've been an old married couple for ages, I'll never know why you didn't just fuck already."

"Classy as always, Greyjoy," Gendry added.

Theon looked at him with a broad smile and said, "watch it, Baratheon. We'll be family soon, and I got Stark seniority."

"Well, this been lovely, but-" Arya started to say to give a hint that it was time for them to leave.

"Tell her," Gendry interrupted her.

"Gendry."

"You've got to tell her," he emphasized.

"Tell me what? Arya?" Sansa asked, concerned.

Arya ignored her sister and instead turned towards Gendry. The look that they shared gave Sansa a lousy feeling, knowing that they were having a whole conversation in those silent moments.

Sensing he wouldn't back down, Arya finally spoke, "you promised."

"Our month is almost over, love," Gendry sighed. "What difference can a couple of days make?"

"It's a lifetime."

Sansa interrupted their exchange, her worry evident in her tone, "Arya."

Arya finally turned to face her sister and spoke, as if suddenly interested in the state of her toenails, "I'm sick."

"Is it contagious?" Theon asked, missing the point.

"Theon," Gendry signaling for him to keep silent and give the sisters time to talk. Sansa looked at Arya intently, and then, seeing Gendry giving them space, everything fell into place.

"No," she pleaded, "please, tell me it's not."

Sansa was now pacing the room, her left hand clutching at the new ring on her right. More than ever, she needed to feel the presence of Catelyn Tully Stark, even if it was just by pretending that the long slender finger wearing her mother's engagement ring was Cat's and not her own. 

"I'm sorry."

Arya's voice broke the spell, and she wasn't five anymore, holding on to her mother's hand, with the diamond solitaire digging into her fingertips. 

Sansa turned towards her sister and asked, "what did your oncologist say?"

This was what Arya had been dreading. 

Arya had to take a breath before responding, "I haven't seen him."

"What do you mean?"

"I chose not to, Sansa."

"I don't understand."

Arya stared at her sister, her Tully auburn eyebrows knitted, breaking her stoic alabaster mask. 

"I fainted, and Syrio made me go to A&E."

"Why didn't you follow up with your doctor?"

Arya remained silent.

"Gendry, why didn't she go to the doctor?" Sansa asked, walking to the kitchen, where he stood.

"I'm not doing it again!" Arya yelled from where she stood.

Turning to face her, Sansa inquired, "not doing what?"

"I don't want treatment this time."

_ 'This time.' _

It almost made Sansa laugh bitterly because  _ 'this time'  _ implied that there were infinite times to come.

"And you're fine with this?!" Sansa asked Gendry, her rage clear from her tone.

"It's not my choice to make," the man replied, looking down.

"Don't you love her?"

Sansa's voice pulled his eyes up to face her, and without missing a beat, he responded, "with all my heart."

"Why would you let her do this, then?!"

"It's my decision to make, Sansa."

"Well, it's the wrong one."

"You don't know what is like, what it cost me," Arya added.

"You seriously think this only happened to you?! You were not the only one who lost them. Fuck! Everyone in this room lost it all before."

It was true, they had all lost parents, and Theon had lost two brothers as well. When Arya turned, she saw him, nursing his beer.

Arya yelled back, "I wasn't even allowed to go to their funeral because I couldn't stop my chemo."

"What are you going to do," Sansa asked, turning towards Gendry. 

"What do you want me to do?" He replied shrugging.

"Convince her!" Sansa yelled with her chest, heaving and anger coursing through her veins. 

Gendry huffed and shook his head. He had to set his forearms on the counter, and letting his head hang, he said, "you think I have not tried?"

"So you're just going to watch her die?"

"I won't be just watching, Sansa," he spoke to her, lifting his head and searching until he was staring into Arya's eyes, "I'll be with her through it all."

Arya swallowed, and something read and molten pooled in her chest.

"Leave," she ordered her sister, closing her eyes.

Sansa pleaded, "Arya." 

"Leave now."

"Fine, I will leave now, but this is not the last we've talked about the topic."

* * *

  
  


The air in Arya's lungs was gone entirely as if she had just been hit in the gut. The feeling made her dizzy, forcing her to sit down on the couch, head down in between her legs. 

"Are you alright?" Gendry asked concerned, sitting next to her and rubbing her back.

Arya's head emerged from between her legs and tilted to look at him. 

"Are you not going to say anything about that?"

Gendry shrugged and replied, "what would you have me do?"

"Be mad that I lied to you? That I lied to Sansa?"

Gendry let his body hit the back of the couch. His mind felt muddled, and he struggled to form thoughts in full sentences.

"Are you mad at me because I made you tell your sister?" He finally asked, pulling her into an embrace and kissing the top of her head.

Arya shook her head and sighed, "I just wanted to stretch this forever."

"What's this?"

"Loving you, being carefree."

Gendry laughed quietly, "our love will not end."

They stayed like that for a while.

"What do you want to do now?"

"Go back to bed?" She ventured.

"I like that idea, but that's not what I meant, and you know it."

"How long do you think until all my brothers are informed?"

Gendry pursed his lips and replied, "they may already know."

"No," she replied, shaking her head and biting her lower lip. "I know my sister. She's going to fume for a little while. I expect calls and texts by tomorrow."

Arya had expected them to have a row, but it didn't happen. There was a blue tint to their day, so they stayed in, watching films and mindless TV. Arya found comfort in one of Gendry's ratty hoodies, wrapped in each other on their couch.

That night they slept in Gendry's room for a change, and they made love more for comfort than anything else. 

* * *

Arya's stomach had been in knots during rehearsal the following day. Syrio had not chastised her about being fast, but he eyed her warily, the same way Arya would worriedly stare at someone who looked like they were about to lose their breakfast. Despite her talent for schooling her face, she was sure her  _ maestro _ could pick up on her inner turmoil. 

She had turned off her mobile, knowing it would soon be exploding with texts and calls from her siblings, and she wasn't ready to face that just yet. Once she got home that evening, she planned to turn it back on and brave her siblings. In the meantime, she did her best to lose herself in her music. Let the notes say the things that were stuck in her throat. 

When she was done and ready to head home, she fished her phone out of her rucksack intending to turn it back on, but something stopped her when her phone was in her hand. 

_ 'Just a little bit more. Just until I get home,'  _ Arya thought, trying to convince herself. 

Walking up the two flights of stairs to their flat, she could feel the dread, or perhaps it was the effort making her breath hard to catch. Arya's heart drummed loud in her ears as resonant as the timpani in  _ O Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi  _ from Orff's  _ Carmina Burana _ . And it felt as if her chest was heaving the exact same beat.

Every step, she promised herself she'd turn her phone on once she was through the door, almost feeling it pulsating in her pocket, like the tell-tale heart.

It didn't matter at the end if she was just lying to herself or if she would have immediately fulfilled her promise because the moment the door opened, eight pairs of eyes set on her. Besides Gendry's, Theon's and Talisa's, the remaining five, made of the same flesh and blood as hers, stared, pleading silently, carving new scars on her chest.

"An intervention? Seriously?" Arya exhaled, letting the straps from the cello case and her bag fall from her shoulders.

Gendry approached her quickly and relieved her of both items, setting them down by the corner where she usually played.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Robb asked from his spot on the couch, with Talisa's hand intertwined with his, over his lap.

Arya took a breath and swallowed noticeably, "I needed a little time to myself."

"Arya, sit down, please," Gendry asked, placing his hand gently on the small of her back.

She turned towards him and rising both eyebrows said, " _ et tu, Brute _ ?"

"Your family showed up because you turned your phone off, what was I going to do? Refuse to open the door?"

"Stop being a child, Arya."

She turned to see her sister, arms tightly crossed over her chest.

"You're not my mother, Sansa."

"Just sit down, please," Jon pleaded.

Arya locked eyes with Jon and walked towards him, sitting down next to her brother, while Gendry sat down next to her. She took off her shoes and pulled legs up, wrapping her arms around them. She felt Gendry's hand going around her, and setting lovingly on the hip away from him. 

"You've been gone for months, and suddenly you're here?" Arya questioned her brother.

Jon was expecting that, and taking a breath, he responded, "I was due for time off."

"And Ygritte?"

"She wasn't as lucky, she should be joining me in a week and a half."

Arya turned around and took her time taking in her family. Besides Jon and Gendry sitting with her, Robb sat with his pregnant wife on the loveseat. Sansa sat on a chair, with Theon standing behind, his hands on her shoulders. Bran was sitting in his wheelchair, looking intently at her, though Arya wondered if it was really her he saw. And lastly, Rickon sat on a stool that was brought from the kitchen, arms crossed and looking away, eyes obscured by his long auburn curls. 

"Wow!" She exclaimed, "I expected a reaction, but not having everyone show up just because Gendry and I are finally fucking."

There was something morbid, how she had enjoyed the reactions around the room, from Gendry's grimace to a chorus of exclamations of her name, coughs, and even Sansa's unexpected grunt.

"I get it," Jon said, getting everyone's attention. "I know what you're doing, and it's okay."

"Fine," she sighed, resigning herself, "what do you all want to talk about?"

"How long have you known?" Her sister-in-law asked in a calm tone.

Arya looked at Gendry and replied, "about a month."

"And you didn't think to let your family know?" Robb asked visibly hurt.

Bran spoke then, "Gendry knew."

Gendry should have taken that as an accusation, but Bran's even tone told him he didn't mean it like that.

"If it makes you all feel better, I don't think I was meant to know either," Gendry offered.

Arya turned to him, and holding his hand, she admitted, "no, you weren't."

"But you did tell him," Sansa added.

Arya stop herself from saying something sarcastic, "we live together, it was hard to keep it to myself."

"But you did keep it from us!" Robb exclaimed in frustration as Talisa rubbed his arm.

"And you stopped texting and calling," Jon added.

"I had to do that to be able to keep it to myself.”

Talisa asked what they were all thinking, "Why?" 

"Because of this, because I needed some time before you did exactly what you are doing."

Sansa spoke then, "You did talk to me."

"I did my best to avoid you, you know that. In the end, I had to tell you I would be in Braavos. I couldn't see you in person."

"But why?" Jon finally asked.

Arya turned to look at Gendry in the eye. They remained silent for a few moments, and then she spoke, "because I don't want treatment."

"You want to die? Is that it?" Robb challenged her.

"No!" Arya groaned, "but I don't want to just survive."

Tears prickled in her eyes, but she fought to keep them in.

"I want to live,  _ fully live  _ whatever time I have left."

Bran spoke then, "and what if you beat it again?" 

"I know it could work, it did before, but just barely. I'm afraid of going through all of that and then not making it in the end. I don’t want to waste my time."

"What do you think, Gendry?" Jon asked.

Gendry looked down, to Arya's hand wrapped in his own, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, a tear making it's way down his cheek, that he quickly brushed off.

"I'm scared shitless," he finally said, staring at Jon. "Arya is not only my girlfriend and my best friend. She’s my family."

Arya pulled him to her then, kissing him briefly on the lips, and eliciting a tiny smile. Then, she looked back to the frowning faces of her siblings: Jon had red and watery eyes. Robb's jaw was tight. Bran just stared at her melancholically. Sansa stayed impassive, but icy tears ran down her face. When she looked for Rickon, he was still trying hard to avoid her eyes. 

"What are you afraid of?" Jon asked quietly.

Arya couldn't stop her tears then, and they ran freely, with a loud sob. Jon pulled her to him, and she let him hold her tight to his chest. With eyes closed, she could fool himself, thinking that she was once more five, and it was her dad comforting her after she had fallen and skinned her knee. 

But the feeling was short-lived. 

She breathed deeply to still herself. 

"Last time," she said with a shaky voice, "it was me who was supposed to die, but then mum and dad died instead."

"You can't seriously believe that it will happen again," Sansa spoke, her body finally softening. "You won't lose one of us."

"I know it's not logical," Arya explained herself, "but I just think about it, and I feel like there is no air left to breathe."

"I was there."

"Bran?"

"With mum and dad," her younger brother clarified, "I should have died with them, but I didn't. I know what it feels to survive when they didn't."

Arya's face contorted in pain, "no, they shouldn't have died, and you should be able to walk. It was supposed to be me."

Theon remained silent, but from time to time, he'd give her a forced smile. Meanwhile, her sister-in-law kept a hand in Robb's, and the other one absentmindedly rubbed her bump, while tears flowed from her eyes.

That was Arya had tried to avoid, bringing pain to her family, and yet, it had happened anyway. But despite their trembling voices and their teary eyes, it was looking at her seventeen-year-old brother what broke her heart. Rickon was tightly wound, his chest rising up and down rapidly. 

"Rickon," Arya called him. "You haven't said anything. Would you look at me, please?"

Only then, he looked up, his reddish curls parting, letting her see his icy blue eyes, red and swollen.

"I don't remember much about mum and dad anymore," he said icily.

"Of course you do, Rick," Arya said with a sob.

"No, not like you all lot do," Rickon added, looking around. "It's not fair."

"I'm sorry," Arya apologized.

He swallowed noticeably and then continued, "but I remember you, growing up, you were there all along. When they died, I was too young to know what I lost, but I'm old enough now to know what I'll lose if you die."

Arya stood up and walked to Rickon, who did the same. She hugged him and felt small, burying her head in the chest of her little brother, now a man far bigger than her. 

"I get it," Jon's voice pulled them from the hug.

Once Jon was sure that Arya was looking at him, he continued, "I won't ask you to get the treatment."

"Jon!" Sansa protested.

Robb was shaking his head, "what are you talking about? Are you mad?"

"I'm not. Just listen," Jon then turned to Arya once more. "I'm not asking you to get treatment. Just see your doctor and have the tests done. Don't make a decision until you know more."

Arya paused briefly, and then, still in Rickon's arms, she nodded.

"I'll go to see my oncologist."

* * *

By the time her family had left, Arya felt hollow. Her eyes stung from crying, and her ears buzzed. When Gendry closed the door, he turned to her and held her tight against his chest. 

"My eyes are dry," she exhaled, "I can't cry anymore."

Kissing her forehead, he spoke, "not a bad thing, love."

"I want to go to bed."

Lying on his chest, all curled up, she seemed so small to Gendry. He was playing with her hair when she finally spoke, "I want you to be my medical proxy."

"Why?" He asked with his lips on her head.

"Because I trust you to make the right calls if I can't."

Gendry considered her petition for a second.

"What about your siblings?"

"They'll make choices with their hearts."

"And I won't?" 

Arya could hear the sting in his words.

"I love you, as well."

"I know, but if I can't make the calls about my health, I want you to make them for me. I need my siblings to hear my voice through you."

Gendry knew what she was asking of him, and yet despite the hurt, he agreed.

"I promise."

* * *

She had to ask Syrio for time off. He was not happy, but when he heard that she needed time to have tests done, he agreed at once. It took a couple of days of being poked and prodded before she was to meet with Dr. Luwin. Jon and Sansa had offered to go with her, but they had understood when she declined and said that she wanted Gendry to accompany her instead. They only asked for her to call as soon as she knew more. 

The doctor had them sit down, and once they were settled, he pushed his glasses back and looked at the papers in front of him.

"I've reviewed your results, Arya," he finally said, "and, before I start, I just want to remind you, that this is private information regarding your health, perhaps it would be better to discuss this in private."

The man's words made Gendry feel uncomfortable, but Arya squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"It's fine, Dr. Luwin, Gendry is my boyfriend and health care proxy. I want him here."

"Very well, then. You do have some abnormal results, but I cannot see any indication of leukemia or any cancerous activity."

Gendry suddenly felt light, and he let go of the breath he had been holding.

Dr. Ludwin's words were not making any sense to Arya, though, "sorry, what now?"

"You're still in remission."

She had prepared herself for many outcomes, but this one was not one of them.

"But the results… they were abnormal."

"They are, both the ones they ran in A&E, a little over a month ago, and the more in-depth one I ordered. You are severely anemic, and I suspect that you may have an autoimmune disorder as well, but I am completely certain that your leukemia has not come back." 

"That's it?" Arya asked, and Gendry could feel his face so tight, that he had to bring a hand to it to confirm that he was grinning.

Dr. Ludwin paused for a second and then continued, "no, that's not all."

His words made Gendry sober up, and the smile on his face disappeared.

"Just spit it out," Arya beckoned her doctor.

"It appears that you're pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm even scared to ask...


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing Dr. Luwin Arya and Gendry go home and they must answer the call from Sansa. They both have time to process their news and finally talk about a future they didn't know they had ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that for the first time I was going to end a multi-chapter in the exact number of chapters I calculated at the beginning, but alas, it was not meant to be, so I had to split this last one into two. 
> 
> A big shoutout to @songbirdeverdeen and @therelectantbadger for helping me with this chapter, for helping with some of the medical stuff and betaing for flow.

[ ](https://imgur.com/TAASCfl)

"I can't be pregnant. It's impossible!"

Arya's outburst broke the trance Gendry hadn't realized he had fallen into when Dr. Luwin said the words he had least expected to hear. 

"Unless you tell me that you have not been sexually active, which something tells me you won't," the older man said, looking at both of them, and making both blush in the process, "I can't see how these results could be wrong."

"But, I went through chemo and radiation. I was convinced I wouldn't be able to."

The doctor nodded sympathetically at Arya's explanation, and then said, "they can make pregnancy difficult, that's true, but not impossible. If you decide to take the pregnancy to term, you will have to be under the care of a high-risk pregnancy specialist."

The sound of Gendry's draw of breath and Arya's paleness informed the man of their disbelief. Clearing his throat, he addressed it, "we double-checked your results, and while there are cancerous tumors that release hCG, which is the hormone detected in the blood to confirm pregnancy, it does not appear to be the case. To be sure, I want you to have an ultrasound today to confirm my diagnosis."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Arya announced.

"A common symptom of pregnancy," Dr. Luwin added.

Arya's eyes were suddenly wide open.

"It's because I'm in shock! Not because I'm… am…"

"_ Pregnant _. Right, I do understand. Listen, in normal circumstances, you probably wouldn't have suspected this until your period was late. We only figured it out because we've run extensive tests. I know that I just drop a bomb on your laps, but let me remind you that you came here convinced your leukemia had come back, and it is not the case. Keep that in mind." 

Arya felt her mouth go dry, and felt lightheaded, she didn't realize she had been staring at Dr. Luwin's Newton cradle, with its ever swinging metal spheres. It was only Gendry's hand on hers, squeezing it in a gesture of reassurance that had pulled her back to her reality. She turned to her side to face him, his jaw tense and his eyes showing the same concern he had the night she had confided in him that she thought her leukemia had come back.

The doctor continued to speak, making them both turn back to him, "I want to treat your anemia as soon as possible. I imagine you two have a lot to talk about, so I am going to give you a prescription for vitamin C infused iron and B12 supplements, plus folic acid. I will also write you a referral for a high-risk OB/GYN, in case that is the route you decide to take. I will also order a full antinuclear panel to check for a possible autoimmune disorder. My nurse will take one more blood sample, and then I will be sending you to the radiology department. I will have you seen immediately to have a scan to confirm my suspicions. You have any questions?"

Gendry had hundreds of questions to ask, not all of them logical, and not all of them unique, but of all those questions, there was only one that was meant for the medical professional.

"Just one, are you 100% sure Arya is still in remission?"

"Almost 100%. After the ultrasound, we'll know for sure."

That was all he needed to know at that point.

"Thank you, doctor."

* * *

They walked outside the medical complex in silence. Arya's right hand was intertwined with Gendry's as they walked, and her left clamped tightly around the glossy piece of paper. The scan had been surreal, and while it happened, she had still been sure that the technician would tell them that the doctor had made a mistake. Instead, the bubbly woman, who kept calling her _ 'darling' _ and _ 'sweetheart,' _confirmed Dr. Luwin's suspicions. Gendry had remained quiet, holding her hand tightly throughout. The ultrasound scan had been brief, though uncomfortable. Gendry winced when he realized they had to use a transvaginal ultrasound wand, though Arya had long ago lost her squeamishness at medical procedures. After getting cleaned and dressed again, they were given several leaflets, her prescription, a few referrals, and the little rectangle of photographic paper with all the proof they needed to be sure that their reproductive organs worked well.

Maybe too well.

They remained silent in the Uber ride home. Gendry's arm around her shoulders, pressing her towards him, as if he worried she'd be taken away. Arya had the printout in front of her, trying to spot her future as she remembered once, years before, an old woman had scrutinized the coffee stain at the bottom of her cup. In front of her, the black, white, and grey told a story that she struggled to decipher. The technician had explained to them that at barely six weeks, it was hard to see much, but that in a week or two, they could probably even hear a heartbeat. Arya looked at the screen in front of them, and all she could see was a black oval over a field of dirty snow. Just like that Braavosi woman had pointed out the symbols she saw in her cup, the technician had identified a yolk sac and a fetal pole, though Arya had not been able to see beyond the shapeless forms. 

She gave up trying to find clarity in the image, and she let her hands fall to her sides. Only then she realized Gendry had been looking too when she turned to him, and his eyes were on hers. His only response was to pull her towards him and place a kiss on the top of her head.

* * *

Gendry unlocked the door in silence. Their flat looked just as they had left it hours before, but time was a funny thing, and right then, it looked like a diorama made to capture a moment frozen in time, still with their coffee-stained mugs in the sink and the air of sorrow still hanging in the air. Arya thought it ironic, how they had left the place in silence, sure they were walking to their doom, and then, to return silently once more, for the complete opposite reason. 

The clinking of the keys being set by Gendry on the kitchen countertop caught her attention. She placed the wrinkly printout next to the change he had fished out of his pockets, and when their fingers touched, they finally looked at each other, and they embraced letting out all the pent up emotion of the day.

"Arya, I -" Gendry started to say, but the ringing of her phone interrupted them.

She extricated herself from his embrace to fish her phone out of her pocket.

"Sansa is calling me. I don't even know what to say."

"Before you answer," he pleaded with his hand on her wrist.

"Yeah?"

"Could we keep the… about… to ourselves? Just until we have time to talk? It's just that Sansa knows already way much more about our sex life than I preferred."

"I wasn't jumping up and down with joy to tell my sister."

"But we should, right?" Gendry asked, tilting her head towards him with his fingers.

"We should what?"

"Be jumping up and down with joy," he clarified. "You're not going anywhere."

* * *

Arya sat down on the sofa in their living room, as she talked with Sansa, telling her what Dr. Luwin had explained regarding her leukemia not being back and her being anemic, even the suspicion that Arya may have an autoimmune issue. Still, she kept to herself the most shocking development. He decided to give her some space by taking a shower. He went to the bathroom and turned the water on. He had showered earlier that morning, and he wasn't particularly sweaty enough to warrant another one. Still, the idea of standing under the hot water, letting his mind process everything was quite appealing. 

Getting in the stall, the water fell on his back and shoulders, and Gendry noticed that it felt a tad hotter than what he usually preferred, but for some reason, instead of adding cold water, he turned the hot tap up a couple of notches. The bathroom was soon steamy, and the heat prickled his skin. Earlier, he had steeled himself to hear how long he had left with the love of his life, and now that he knew she wasn't going away, all the pent up emotion still came up, and a sudden sob made him feel like choking. The tears came violently, and he wrapped his arms around his chest, his left hand squeezing his right bicep hard, tilted forward, the high pressured water hitting him on the back of the head, and trickling down his face, mixing with his tears. For a second, he was a little boy again, crying in the shower because someone had called him a bastard at school, and he didn't want his mother to feel sad. He was also a young teen, right after Anna had been diagnosed, and his uncle Davos had explained just how aggressive the cancer was. Then Gendry was older, but still, a teenager when she had died, and he and Davos had to pack her stuff from the hospital and drive to their flat. Davos had set the bags on the kitchen table, and Gendry's first reaction had been that Anna would get mad at them for littering the place when he realized she would never come through the door again. 

It stung, realizing that she'd never scold him for leaving his stuff on the table, nor would she ever need any of the personal effects inside the plastic bags. At that memory, his hand searched for the ring dangling on his chest, the one he never took off. The afternoon of her death, her mother's earrings and the ring she wore since he could remember were in a small traveling bag, along with some mascara and lipstick. Gendry had taken the ring out and studied it carefully, looking for the name and date engraved inside: 

_ 'Gendry 30-04-66.' _

His father may have agreed to have his surname on his birth certificate, but Anna had made sure to give him the name of her own father, the best man she had ever known.

Gendry's mother had never married, had never even gotten engaged after making the mistake of falling in love with Robert Baratheon fresh off university at twenty-two. Her parents had passed away when she was still in school, and she had kept her mother's wedding band while her brother Davos had kept their father's. Anna had worn the white gold band on her right hand on purpose, unapologetic about her status as a single mum to Gendry. 

That afternoon, when Davos saw him holding the ring, he had said, "you should keep it, it would make her proud."

Davos had also been the one to buy him the silver chain, and since then, Gendry had worn his mother's ring, the one the grandfather he never knew had placed on his grandmother's finger over fifty years before. 

No one had ever placed a ring on his mother's left hand, not Robert Baratheon, nor anyone else after. When Robert had learned he had gotten Anna pregnant, he had left her to deal with it on her own. Other men could have married her after, but Anna had devoted her life to her son. Gendry had never understood why his mother had agreed to have him take the Baratheon surname, instead of her own Waters, the only concession Robert had made for him after his birth. Gendry had grown up wondering how bad a baby had to be for the mere thought of himself having been conceived being enough for Robert to leave his mother, a woman that he must have loved, and one that Gendry knew to be bright and beautiful. When Anna died, Gendry had finally accepted that Robert had never hated him enough to kill his love for his mother. The truth was that the man who had gotten him in his mother's womb had been just a simple man, no more and no less. A man that loved his mother just enough to bed her but not enough to avoid getting her pregnant or to marry her when he did. 

As he turned the water off and he dried himself, he thought how ironic it was that he had ended up doing the exact same thing that his father had done. 

No, he knew he was a very different man than Robert Baratheon, and that his love for Arya was real, but Gendry had not given one moment's thought to the possibility of getting his child on the woman he loved. That thought stopped him dead on his tracks, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. Since the moment the doctor had told them that Arya was pregnant, the idea had been abstract. It hadn't become real while he held Arya's hand during the ultrasound, nor when Arya had kept looking at the scan printout on their way home. But right then, in the steamy bathroom, the mirror showed him how much he looked like his father, in particular with the grown stubble that he hadn't had time to shave that morning. Despite their differences, for the first time, he understood more what Robert must have felt when he learned Gendry grew in his mother's womb. And he also knew, without a doubt, that he didn’t want to miss a beat of his child’s life.

He quickly dressed, determined to go to Arya, and have them both talk, but when he came out of the bathroom, she was nowhere to be found, and her cell phone left abandoned on the table. 

"Fuck."

* * *

Arya was not looking forward to the chat with Sansa, but after all that heartache, her siblings deserved to know.

Sansa had steeled herself for what she expected to be one of the worst calls of her life, and that included being the one to pick up the call from the hospital after her parents' accident. What her sister was telling her though, was incomprehensible.

"I don't follow."

"Well, it turns out that the reason why my lab results were abnormal is that I am anemic, and maybe even have an autoimmune issue, but thankfully no leukemia."

Sansa had almost asked Arya to put Gendry on the phone, but she had bitten her tongue, feeling guilty at doubting her sister. She said something else instead, "so, if you had followed up with Dr. Luwin from the beginning, you'd never have thought you were no longer on remission."

Arya couldn't stop herself from groaning. She was sure Sansa had heard her, but she had not said anything about it. 

"What do you want me to say, Sansa?" She asked, shaking her head, even though her sister couldn't see her, "you'd rather I was sick?"

"No, of course not!"

Arya felt exhausted. It was not only what her body had been put through during the tests, or her anemia, or even the impossible secret she had just learned that day. She felt like an empty bag turned inside out.

"Listen, I know it was stupid, but I can't change that now."

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

Sansa's tone let her know she was honest.

"And of course I'm glad you're not dying," her sister then took a moment to sigh and continued, "we should be celebrating. Maybe we could come to see you."

That suggestion riddled her with anxiety.

"Today was a lot, I just… I need a bit of time to process all of this, you'll understand, right?"

"Is there anything else?"

_ 'Yes,' _she thought, but she needed to work through that on her own first, and then with Gendry.

"No, I am just emotionally drained. I promise we'll get together in a couple of days. I just need to process all of this."

"I understand."

"And Sansa?"

"Yes?"

"Could you talk to the others?"

"They'll want to talk to _ you _."

She'd had to at least text, Jon. Maybe text them all and ask them to give her a few days before they could talk in person.

"I know, I just need some time."

"Alright, love you."

"Love you too."

She set her phone face down on the coffee table, and the sound of water let her know that Gendry was still showering. Soon he'd be out, and they would have the conversation they needed to have, the one her sister had interrupted. The previous dread from Sansa's call hadn't completely gone yet. She felt the sensation low in her gut, and for the first time, she allowed herself to notice the otherness nestled everywhere in her body. Arya needed to deal with that first, before talking to Gendry. It didn't take long to decide what to do, she just grabbed her keys from the countertop and left her phone behind.

* * *

It had been at least three years since the last time Arya had set foot there. 

Despite that, her feet knew the way to the spot where she was headed, and she was sure she could find it with eyes closed, almost by how fast her heart seemed to increase its pace as she got closer. 

Once she reached the place, she sat on the grass, letting the eerie silence finally give her the peace to process everything.

There had been times before when Arya had wondered how different her life would have been if she had not gotten sick. She had also questioned if her parents would have still died without her leukemia. It wasn’t as if they had had their accident en route to see her at the hospital. Still, Arya had always considered it a sick joke of destiny that as her parents were slowly making peace with the fact that they were going to lose a daughter, it was them who passed, and she the one who remained alive. What she knew for sure was that she and Gendry would not have met and become friends without their steep losses. 

Since beating the odds and going into remission, Arya had known that she’d never waste her time, fully prepared for her time being short. 

Thus, there were many things she never expected herself to be. She never expected herself to grow old. She never expected to have a quiet simple life. 

And she definitely never expected herself to bear a child. 

And now, she was there, in front of her parents' tombstone, with the intertwined sigils of the Starks and the Tullys. 

Arya had not planned what she’d do when she got there, but the pull that led her there was intense. It also had not been an accident that she had left her cell phone home. Gendry would surely be upset that she had left without any way to reach her, but it had been necessary.

Arya turned around, resting her back against the polished stone, and closing her eyes, she tried to pretend that she was sitting on her father’s lap, leaning on his chest, both sitting under the great weirwood tree back in the North. Still, the slab was cold when her father’s chest had always made her feel warm and safe. She thought then of the way Ned Stark used to walk around with her on his shoulders, and her chin resting on the top of his head, while her short arms would wrap around his neck, surely making it uncomfortable for him, though he never complained. There was undoubtedly something about what a parent felt for their child that made it all okay. She then thought of her mother, sitting next to her, holding a bin to her face when she had to puke her guts out because of the chemo, and she could so easily see the worry in her beautiful blue eyes. It was then that she realized her hand had set on her lower abdomen, protective of something that was barely a spec under her flat tummy. The realization made her open her eyes and look down and feel mesmerized at the thought. She then let herself daydream, seeing the silhouette of a man walking around a wooded area with a child on his shoulders. The small child on the man's shoulders was not her, though, nor the man was her father. Instead, it was Gendry she saw, walking around and holding on to the chubby legs of a boy or a girl, who had his neck on a chokehold, and he smiled that smile of his that never ceased to make her heart beat faster. 

She turned around and let her hand trace each letter of her parents’ names, as big fat tears fell down her face. She had never been the one to speak out loud to her parents’ memory like Sansa seemed to be able, always preferring to keep that one-sided conversation to her thoughts.

After brushing the tears from her face, she only mouthed_ ‘I’m going to be okay,’ _and she stood up and walked towards the entrance of the cemetery.

* * *

By the time she made it back to their flat, the lights were off, and only the twilight from outside filtered through the windows. The place was eerily quiet, yet she was sure Gendry wouldn’t have left. Walking to the kitchen, she flicked the lights on, which prompted a low growl from below. 

He was there, sitting with his back against the fridge, squinting his eyes as they got used to the bright light. 

"You've been drinking," she said, noticing the bottle of scotch standing by his foot.

"The bottle is full," he was quick to point out. "I considered it for a bit, but then I realized it made me have way too much in common with the wanker who fathered me."

Robert Baratheon had been an alcoholic and had died of liver failure. Gendry did drink, but it had been long since the last time he had overindulged, always hating anything that made him remotely close to the man who was his father. Right then, it was clear to Arya that he was referring to more than just the drinking. 

Arya sat down next to him, and after a moment she spoke, looking down, finally ready to voice her fears, "I never thought this was possible. With my health, and all the radiation. That is quite stupid of me, isn't it? I just assumed it had come back."

Gendry turned towards her and placed his hand on her leg, reassuringly.

"I've always used protection. It wasn't just you. Fuck it! I have condoms in the drawer on my nightstand. It wasn't even that I was selfish and assumed you'd take care of that. I never even considered it."

Arya covered the hand on her leg with her own, and intertwined their fingers, "well, I was supposed to be dying."

"Guess we were both stupid," Gendry said, looking down at their joint hands.

"It doesn't look good for our offspring, does it?" Arya added.

Arya's words made him turn towards her abruptly, "our offspring? Are you sure? Can we… do you want to?"

"Don't you?"

Gendry sighed, looking down, but then he looked for her eyes again and spoke, "it's not my decision to make."

"It affects you."

"Want to know how I feel?"

"Yes."

"I couldn't be happier you're not dying."

"But this?" She asked, moving both their hands to her nonexistent belly. 

"I want this, if this is what you want as well,” he said enthralled by their hands on her, and then he continued, looking into her eyes, “no matter what you decide, it means I am not losing you."

Gendry’s words settled the uncertain tempo in her heart, but there was something that still weighed heavily on her.

"This started only because I was going to die, and all that crap I said,” she said apologetically. “You wouldn't have proposed what you did if it hadn't been because of that."

"You think I'd rather you died?” Gendry asked incredulously. “ You think I can go back to just being friends?"

"You don't wish I didn't get us into this mess?"

Gendry pulled her to sit on his lap, his hand brushing her hair behind her ear, and leaving it there. 

"You're still the love of my life, and I think I am the love of yours. It just means that life gets to be a lot longer."

She didn’t wait for him to look for her lips, and instead, she claimed his in a desperate kiss. After they parted, Arya sat down next to him again, leaning on his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter made her pull away, confused.

“What?”

“You should have said yes when I proposed,” Gendry said, nudging her shoulder with his.

Arya turned towards him, and with a slight frown, she said, "saying_ ‘what if we don’t just look like newlyweds' _ is not proposing.”

“Oh, so now you want the whole romantic thing?”

He had expected her to lash out, to call him stupid or elbow him in the side, but instead, she laughed. Seeing her smiling wide gave Gendry that thrilling sensation he always got in his gut when he rode a roller coaster.

“No. And I don’t need the shotgun wedding either. You don’t have to propose just because of this.”

“Great, then I can be more like my father.”

“You are nothing like your father. Do you really want this, though?”

“Besides Davos, you are all the family I have. I want everything with you. We made this with love, and until last night, I never even dreamed this was possible.”

Arya didn't say anything and instead captured his lips in hers. The kiss was slow but loud with all the things they were not speaking. 

Gendry pulled away first and looked into her eyes with an intensity that scared Arya slightly. Without saying a word, he stood up and extended his hand to her to pull her to her feet in one fluid motion. She had to brace herself on his chest to stop the momentum, while Gendry pulled the hand in his up and bent to get his other hand in between her legs, and just like that, he lifted her up in a fireman's carry.

"What are you doing, stupid?!" Arya yelled, having been caught off guard.

"I'm going to make love to the love of my life and mother of my child if that’s okay with you?"

Arya laughed out loud and swatted his arse, "lead the way."

* * *

Despite her expectation of being thrown on the bed dramatically, Arya was quite surprised when Gendry laid her down with more care than he had ever used with her. The bewildered look on her face caused him to smile bashfully, and look down to her midsection, before turning back to her. It was easy to forget, but Gendry's eyes had reminded her, and she felt dizzy, mostly at their newfound reality, but also, in a small way, at the sudden softness and intimacy between them. 

It wasn't like they needed this new bond to become family, since long before Gendry had become as indispensable as all her loved ones with whom she had a blood connection. Though it was almost magical that somewhere, deep inside her, something living had been conjured seemingly out of thin air, and one day that little something would be tangible proof of their love and friendship. 

A spark of lust lit her core, seeing Gendry so fascinated with what was currently growing inside of her. 

He climbed on the bed above her, making sure to not put any weight down on her body, and instead, he supported himself on his elbows and knees.

"Are you going to be this stupid from now on?"

"You need to be more specific," he noted, "since, according to you, I'm always _ this _ stupid."

"I'm not going to break. _ We _ are not going to break."

Gendry kissed her wildly after that as if one tiny word had been all it took to set off his passion. 

Arya was enjoying the moment after the kiss calmed down, and Gendry remained with his forehead on hers. She loved that they were just being there, together, knowing that they were no longer in a rush, that they had all the time in the world to waste. Arya then felt Gendry setting part of his weight on her, still hoisting himself up, but heeding her words that she wasn't going to break. 

He then opened his eyes, and they stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other, caressing, and kissing. They took their time, and they made out for a while, with their clothes still on. It was ironic that now that they lived together, and were lovers, and had even made a baby, they were kissing so sweetly, as they probably would have if they had met in another universe, one without heartache and sorrow. They had allowed themselves to be teenagers together, exploring each other, taking their time to let things progress. 

After a while Gendry sat on his haunches, and pulled Arya up, so they both could rid themselves of their clothes. Gendry then moved up on the bed and sat against the headboard. 

"Come over here," he asked, patting his thigh.

Arya climbed on his lap and held on to his neck with her arms.

"All of this because you are scared of crushing me?"

"Maybe, but this way I get to see you better."

Gendry cupped one of her breasts, then, and ran his hand down, stopping just above her belly button. 

Arya sensed his hesitancy and said, "it's fine to touch me there."

Gendry didn't waste time and let his hand rest on her skin, his large palm covering her lower abdomen. 

"What is it?" Arya asked, at the wide grin on his face.

"You and I," he replied, looking up, "growing in here."

Arya moved her hands, so they were cradling his face and kissed him deeply. 

Gendry then put his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. Arya rocked herself against him, letting him feel her pebbled nipples, and feeling in turn his hard length. 

"Someone is eager," she said when she let go of his lips.

Gendry simply shrugged, "is it awful to say that knowing I got you pregnant does this to me?"

Arya smiled and claimed his lips once more, while her hand went in between them and finding his cock, she guided him to her entrance. She moved her hips in lazy circles, teasing them both, and slowly taking him in, making Gendry draw a loud breath.

Arya kept lowering herself until Gendry was fitted snugly inside.

"Hi," she said against his lips.

"Hi," he replied with a smile of his own.

Arya made sure to have her legs flexed on either side of him, with her feet firmly planted on the bed. Gendry had one hand on her rear end, and the other one around her back, cradling her head, while her hands were tangled in his hair. 

"Is this okay?" He asked as he gave a tentative thrust.

"You do know I was just as pregnant a couple of nights ago when you were jackhammering into me, right?"

Gendry buried his head on her chest, and then looked up at her.

"In my defense, I didn't know you were."

"That's not why I said, stupid. What I mean is that I'm the same person, and I'm not fragile."

Gendry kissed her jaw and then down her neck until he captured a breast in his hand and eased it into his mouth. He alternated between sucking and biting until he felt Arya wince.

"Did I hurt you?"

"They're just sensitive," she explained.

"You want me to stop?"

"No, just do it softly."

Gendry tried again, hands, lips, and tongue adoring her almost reverently. 

Arya lifted her hips slowly and then lowered herself again, setting the pace. Gendry groaned against her breast, his warm breath, and the low sound vibrating directly into her heart. He caught the pace she set and aided her, with his large hand firmly placed on her arse, moving her up and down on him. On the third thrust, he hit the right spot, and they moaned in tandem. Gendry had to let go of her breast and buried his mouth on the crook of her neck. 

Despite their size difference, Arya felt herself larger, wrapped around Gendry, keeping him safe inside of her. The thought incited her, making her rock her hips harder, and the increase in their rhythm made him growl. Gendry nudged her legs to wrap around him, eager to take over the tempo. Both his hands set on her bum, and squeezing, he moved her against him faster, getting rewarded with a tug of his hair. 

He ought to have felt bad that so soon they were chasing their bliss, but he grinned, realizing that they had a lifetime ahead of them to make love. He then brought his hand in between them, searching with his fingers the place where they were joined, and finding her engorged clit with his thumb. 

Arya let her head fall back when his calloused thumb started moving in circles over her sensitive nub. The movement pushed her breasts up, where it was easy for Gendry to trap one in his mouth, and he synched his actions, thumb, and tongue and cock, setting her off, letting her succumb to her bliss, and following her immediately after.

* * *

After they got clean, they stayed awake for a while, Gendry embracing Arya from behind, running his fingers over her skin, so lightly that they made her break into goosebumps. They traced the curve of her hip into her waist, and then around an areola and down to her bellybutton. Arya simply beamed with eyes closed, both of them lost in a place where time ceased to exist. 

Gendry's fingers finally settled on her abdomen, tracing invisible lines, imaginary paths to their future.

His mouth nuzzled the back of her ear, lulling her into slumber, until his low voice vibrated his words against the sensitive skin, "be my wife."

Arya's eyes opened at once, and she turned to look at him.

Her eyes asked the question, and he promptly repeated himself, the words now warm on her lips, "be my wife. Let me be your husband."

Arya smiled at how heated the word husband in Gendry's voice felt inside her chest. 

She wanted to say yes, but some things needed saying first.

"We don't have to marry for you to be different from him. You're not him, and you will never be."

Gendry kissed her softly then, and his hand found its way to the place where they grew together. 

"All this time, you've been my wife. I'd come home to you, and all the good and bad and the unimportant, all of that I wanted to tell you."

"We were too comfortable to see it."

"So be my wife for real. Let me tell people I'm going home to my wife, to my family."

Her grey eyes burned into his blue ones, and grinning wide she replied, "yes."

"Yes?"

"We've been family all along. Let's make it real."

Gendry's hand went to the back of his neck and took the silver chain off. He sat up on the bed and undid the clasp, freeing the ring from the chain.

"Come here," he asked her, holding her hand and pulling her up.

"I should have been prepared, but I was a bit preoccupied with something else. This is just while I get one of yours," Gendry said, placing the band on her left ring finger. 

Arya smiled, "it fits."

"I told you once my ring looked good on you," he said as he pulled her to his lips. 

They kissed lazily for a long while, and when they had to part for air, they stayed together, forehead to forehead.

There was one thing left for Arya to say, one last tie to undo and let herself float free.

"You know this is just a reprieve, right?" She said without opening her eyes.

Her words made Gendry pull slightly away, and while she didn't open her eyes, she knew he was eying her warily. 

"What do you mean?"

"Me, not being sick," she explained, opening her eyes. "I've always known what's going to take me. I'm not sick now, but the threat will always lurk behind me."

"You can't know for sure," he said with a soft smile, and wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her closer. "We could have a meteor fall on us right now."

"I know that," Arya replied, running her thumb over his prickly jaw, "but you need to understand something."

"What's that?"

"It could still come back at any moment. I could leave you alone still," and right then, Arya unwrapped his hand from her, and placed it on her midsection, "with this in your arms."

"You don't know when. I don't know when. Fuck! I don't have better genes than yours. My mum died of cancer. I could get it myself."

Arya held on to his face with both hands, the idea clearly horrifying, "don't say that."

Gendry's lips pulled to one side, "you get now what I've been feeling all along?"

Arya kissed him then, and the kiss told him that she understood. 

When they parted, Gendry remained silent for a while, all his attention on his thumb, caressing her swollen lower lip.

"What are you thinking?" She asked.

"Just thinking about our genes together," he replied, and he chuckled at his own thoughts. 

Arya scrunched her face at the thought, "this kid is screwed."

"Well, yeah. But there's also many good things it… She? He? They?" He tried unsurely. "I just mean they could still get so many good things from both of us, from our families."

"It's scary, isn't it?" 

Gendry sighed profoundly and added, "that's sort of the point."

Arya pushed him softly until his back was on the mattress, and she climbed on top of him, supporting herself with her folded arms on his chest. Gendry pulled a pillow under his head, and he set his hands on her hips. 

"All this time, I was ready. I was not scared. I didn't want to leave you, not when we finally figured things out, but I wasn't scared," Arya explained. 

"What are you scared of now?"

Arya took a moment to close her eyes and sigh. And when she opened them again, she set them on his and spoke, "living."

"I was fucking terrified of that before," Gendry confessed.

"Of what?"

"Living without you."

"And now?" She ventured.

"Now," he replied, and his hand climbed to the back of her head, and slowly pulled her towards his lips, "whatever comes our way, we face it together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, almost at the end! Next one has Davos, and the Stark clan and a little someone new. 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for still reading and commenting, you absolutely make my life infinitely better.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry share their news with their families and make new promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I cannot believe this story is finally finished. Seven months later, almost to the day. I want to thank you all who stuck with it, despite the hard topic and the fact that this was my first Modern AU in this fandom. I will forever be in your debt.

[ ](https://imgur.com/4Rpftrf)

** Tuesday **

Gendry drove the rental car down the backroads he knew like the back of his hand. Despite the calming familiarity of the country roads, he could feel tightness in his gut in anticipation of the talk he was about to have. It was a bit ridiculous, being a man grown of twenty-seven, and worrying just as if he was a teenager bringing home a note from the school principal to his uncle. 

He hadn't let Davos know he was coming, even despite the risk that he was running by making the trek all the way there, and chancing not finding his uncle after the more than an hour and long trip.

The truth was that if he had called or texted, Davos would have gotten concerned and pestered him until he told him why he was coming to see him. 

What he had to say was something Gendry couldn't risk letting him know through a text.

Davos had been sitting on his porch whittling when he saw the unfamiliar car park on his driveway. He hadn't stopped the movements of the knife, but he did raise an eyebrow inquisitively. When the door opened, and the unmistakable black head of hair emerged, he stopped his endeavor.

"The prodigal nephew returns after a month and a half of silence," Davos announced loudly, setting the knife and piece of wood on the table next to him, and standing up to greet him.

Gendry couldn't stop himself from grinning at his uncle, chiding as he went up the few front steps until he was close enough to hug the man. 

Davos patted his back loudly and said with a grin, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I've texted you at least once a week, stop exaggerating."

"Aye, but it's not the same," Davos replied, stepping back to look at him. "I'm glad to see you, son."

"Glad to see you too, Davos."

Both men walked inside, and without a word, they headed to the kitchen as was their ritual. Gendry sat at the small kitchen table that he had been sitting at for as long as he had memory. How many times had he sat there, with Davos healing his sorrows with a steaming cup of tea?

This time was no different, Davos was busy putting the kettle on and taking out two mugs from the cupboard already anticipating that he had something important to say if he had shown out of the blue like that. 

While his uncle was busy with the tea, Gendry rubbed his hands together, still unsure how he'd broach the subject of just how much Arya's and their relationship had changed in a little over a month. Right about then, he regretted not having asked Arya to come along, but he had wanted to do it on his own. She had gone to rehearsal instead, and then she'd have a concert later that evening, giving him plenty of time to catch up with his uncle.

"Just remember," Davos said, breaking his trance as he set the mugs of tea on the table, and he sat down next to Gendry, "that I'm the only blood relative you have left."

The comment caught him unprepared, and while the concept of family had always been different for them, his uncle's words had immediately brought to mind the secret that was at that precise moment growing in Arya's womb and the ring on her finger.

But despite their recent promises, Arya had become his family long before, almost as long as Davos had always been. It was only then that it had occurred to him they now had a blood tie in between them. 

"About that-" he found himself saying.

Davos was quick to interrupt him, "did anyone from Robert's family reach out to you? Because you know how I feel about that. They are not your real family."

Gendry had not been expecting Davos' rant, but he was not at all surprised at his uncle's animosity towards the man that had brought so much heartache to his late sister. 

"No, none of that,” he reassured him.

"Then what? What other blood family could you have?" Said Davos with a confused look, that then turned into a grin as he attempted to make a joke, "unless you knocked someone up."

Gendry stared at his mug of tea a little too long, making his uncle realize how unintentionally on point his joke had been. And once his initial shock passed, he hit Gendry round the head. 

"Did I teach you nothing? Where was Arya during all of this? Because she should have knocked some sense into you."

A chuckle came out of Gendry that he promptly turned into a cough.

"Well,” he said, shaking his head, “she was a little bit distracted, getting knocked up herself."

It took a moment for Davos to process the words his nephew had just said. 

"Arya?"

Gendry pursed his lips and simply nodded, without being able to avoid a slight blush on his cheeks. 

"At least you have the decency to look embarrassed about it. So you and Arya? Can't say I'm disappointed, the gods know that I have been telling you she was the one for you for years."

"You did."

Davos' smile suddenly sobered and then continued, "what I meant was that you should date her, though, not get her with child in record time. You should have known better."

Gendry’s good mood suddenly withered.

"I should have known better than to do exactly as my deadbeat father did, you mean?"

Davos exhaled loudly, regretting his choice of words.

"You may look like him, son, but you are a thousand times more a man than he ever was. Remember that. He may have contributed for you to come to this gods' green earth, but it was your mum who made you the man you are."

"Mum _ and you _," Gendry clarified.

Something seemed to be caught in Davos’ eyes, for he looked up and shook his head.

"The gods decided to call my beautiful Marya to paradise before her time and that no children would be on my path,” he said after a while. “ But those same gods put you in my life, and I will never be able to thank them enough for it."

Gendry pulled his uncle into a hug then, unable to stop himself.

"Now, enough of this silliness," Davos exclaimed as they parted, brushing away a tear. "Tell me how this came to be."

Gendry's eyebrows rose to his hairline, "hmmm… the usual way? I mean, why would you want to know _ that _?"

His uncle roared with laughter, and once he calmed, he said, "don't be daft. I meant how you and that lovely girl that somehow can see past your nonsense got together."

"It's complicated," Gendry replied, knowing full well how that answer would frustrate the man.

"You've got somewhere to go now?"

Gendry laughed and nodded, "Fair enough. Well, you see, Arya thought she was sick again…"

* * *

It was already dark by the time he made it back to the city. Despite how much he had itched to go home to Arya, it had been long since he had spent any quality time with Davos, and Arya had told him not to worry about staying late, since she had a concert that evening, and she would be Ubering back home. 

The drive back had been quite the contrast with his trip there, the apprehension that he had felt about reaching the end of his journey had turned into eagerness, that tingled in his leg and made him step on the pedal far more than he should have. Still, his personal siren was calling, and he wondered if cello notes dictated the beat of his heart. 

There was a spring in his step, walking home from the rental car place, just a few blocks away from their building, and once inside, he ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time. Opening the front door, he found Arya sitting on the sofa and watching something on TV, already free from the orchestra outfit, and wearing a ratty old band t-shirt of his instead.

He was about to greet her the way they had always done, "_ Honey _, I'm-"

"Do not dare," she interrupted him without taking her eyes off the tv.

"Why not?" He asked, confused, taking off his boots by the entrance, and walking towards her afterward.

Arya tore her eyes from the screen then, and replied, "it was supposed to be ironic, like we were a married couple from the fifties, despite being just friends and flatmates. It's way too cliché now," she explained, and it was not lost on him that she had said it with her hand resting on her lower belly.

"What should we call each other then? Move forward," he asked, sitting behind her once she freed the space behind her, and pulling her close against his chest.

"Nothing cringe-worthy."

"You mean like _ sweetie-pie _ ? _ Sugarplum _ ? _ Cupcake _?"

"Nothing food-related, for sure."

Gendry smiled, placing his right hand over the place where his child grew and said, "_ baby _?"

"Confusing, given our present situation," she admonished him, turning back to face him. 

"_ Love _?" The word bloomed wide, enveloping both.

Arya smiled at that, "you already call me that."

"What would _ you _ call me then? And I won't take _ stupid _ or _ idiot _. It's supposed to be a new term of endearment, not something you've called me all along."

Arya grinned wickedly and said, "how about… _ daddy _?"

Her head tilted from where she was sitting against him, letting the word catch him off guard and making his face break into a wide grin at the play on words. Gendry couldn't do anything but place his other hand on her neck and kiss her soundly.

"Hey, love," he said, looking down at her once they parted. 

"How's Davos? Did you tell him our news?"

"He's celebrating that he picked the right horse to bet on."

"Only that?" Arya asked, scrunching her face.

"Well, he gave me a lecture on my lack of restraint and shitty family-planning."

"Sorry about that," she added, her face softening and with genuine solidarity in her voice.

"Don't be sorry. I'm pretty sure he's started whittling toys for our little one. How was your concert?"

"It was a good one, though I got a bit dizzy in the middle, I must have looked a bit green since Syrio looked unusually panicked."

Gendry turned her around then, clearly concerned about her.

"Should we ring Dr. Luwin?"

"Relax," Arya calmed him, kneeling with her legs on each side of him, and wrapping her arms around his neck, capitalizing on being slightly taller than him that way, and making him look up to her as she spoke. "It's just another one of the joys of pregnancy."

"You ate well?" Gendry inquired, holding on to her hips.

Rolling her eyes at his concern, she replied, "I did, and I took my meds, no need to worry, _ Daddy _."

He smiled widely at her cheek.

"_ Vixen _."

"Hey, does it look like I have a bump?" She asked, lifting her shirt."

"Was I gone that long?" He mocked, with two hands on the skin she had just unveiled.

Arya swatted at him, "I'm serious! I've only known about this for a couple of days, and it's like my body caught up and started swelling."

"I sincerely doubt it happens overnight," he replied, "but it is bound to happen, isn't it?"

"It's just… different."

"How?"

"It's not like a beer or food baby bloating. It's… hard. Feel."

Arya slid one of his hands a bit lower on her abdomen, and pressed on the back of it, forcing it down against her skin. 

"It's firm."

"And that firmness makes all my jeans feel uncomfortable. Oddly enough, my concert dress was the most comfortable thing I wore today, except for this shirt."

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" He asked, beaming at her.

"It is."

"Did you talk with your family?" He asked after a while.

"I've texted my siblings. They have a lot of questions, and they want to get together."

"We should have everyone over this weekend."

"I'm not looking forward to telling them about the baby," she admitted, playing absentmindedly with the freckles on his jaw.

"What do you have to worry about," he asked with knitted brows. "If anything, it is me who should worry about telling your five brothers you're up the duff with my baby."

"Your baby?" She asked defiantly.

"Our baby?"

"Yeah, you're screwed."

Gendry let out a deep belly laugh.

"You'll defend me?"

"You want to use our unborn child and me as a shield?"

"Totally."

"My knight in shining armor."

Gendry finally looked toward the tv as the colorful period clothing catching his eye.

"What are you watching anyway?"

"_ ' Call the Midwife' _I thought it was a good idea to start getting on the mindset."

"You do know you're not having this baby in the sixties, right?"

"There go my hopes that a plucky nun would give me gas and teach me how to breathe through contractions."

"Well, one thing is for sure, I'm not staying outside smoking while you give birth."

"How very modern of you."

"I was there when we made it, I'll be there when you birth it."

Arya pulled him by the collar and kissed him deeply, sitting down on his lap.

When they parted, Gendry brushed her hair back, and ran his fingers over her pink cheeks, loving the contrast with her previous pallor. Having her sitting on his lap, with flushed cheeks, reminded him of something, and looking around, he said, "by the way, do you think it happened here?”

“Do I think what happened here?”

Gendry just looked down to her midsection, and let his eyebrows wag, making Arya laugh.

“I mean, it couldn’t have happened in Lys, could it?”

“No," she replied, smiling. "According to my cycle, it must have happened pretty early on.”

"So, we could have very well made it here," he theorized, joining his hands behind his neck and leaning back on the cushions. 

"Why are you so excited about the baby having been conceived on this couch?" She teased him, leaning on her crossed arms over his chest.

Gendry simply shrugged and added, "it's kind of a cool story."

"And when our kid is grown and moves out, we can say _ 'you can take the couch you were conceived on,' _" she added.

"That makes me want to buy a car just so we can conceive our second in it."

"You have known about this one for less than a week, and you're already thinking about the second?! How many kids do you want?!"

Gendry blushed at her words, and he ran his hand through his hair, "well, I was an only child, and that absolutely sucked. And you have all those siblings, and I've always liked seeing how you have each other. Now, maybe not six, but I wouldn't want this one to be an only child."

"Let me see how much it hurts to get this one out, and I'll get back to you on that."

"Whatever you say, love," he promised with a kiss.

* * *

** Wednesday **

Walking over the wet cobblestones holding hands with Gendry, Arya found herself leaning more into him. It had made sense earlier when it was still pouring, and they both tried to huddle under the umbrella, but then the sky had cleared, and yet, Arya felt herself pushing her shoulder against him still. She suspected it was her hormones, making her broody and craving the warmth of his body. Gendry didn't say anything, but from time to time, he'd look at her sideways and let his lips curled crookedly. 

It wasn't long until they reached their destination, and Gendry let them both into his workshop.

"So, what are we doing here?" Arya asked, plopping herself on a stool as Gendry went to get something from one of the cupboards in the back.

"I want to show you Brienne's Les Paul, finished," he explained, walking until he was standing next to Arya, holding the gleaming electric guitar in front of her.

Arya ran her fingers over the lustrous mint-colored surface, and over the shiny new machinery. She let her fingertips run over the metal strings and up the neck and over the frets. She took her time to admire the mother-of-pearl inlays marking the frets, of alternating suns and lions. 

"She's beautiful."

"Thank you."

Gendry then took the guitar back and wrapped it in a protective velvet cover before hanging in the same locked cupboard from where he got it earlier before he returned and stood in front of Arya, on the other side of the workbench.

"What are you going to do now? Any big projects coming?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah. I still have all my regulars, but I have something special. Let me show you."

Having said that, he took the thick wool cover from the bench to reveal what was only delivered the day before. 

"Is this maple?" Arya asked, running her fingers over the grain of the wood in front of her. "It's a beautiful piece."

"Do you like it?" He asked, amused by how big her eyes looked, admiring the material.

"It's gorgeous. Top-quality, isn't it? Must have been pricey. Who's the stupid moneybags who commissioned this? Don't tell me is Jaime _ fucking _ Lannister."

Gendry laughed, walking around the bench to pull her to her feet and wrap his arms around her lower back. 

"It's not."

"Hope the piece is going to an actual musician, and not some idiot who will not value your craft. Tell me now, who is it?"

"The stupid moneybags?" He asked, grinning. "Well, you've been fucking him on the regular and even let him put his baby in you. And the idiot who will be playing this cello when I finish it? Well, that's you, love."

"You're making me a cello?" She asked, and her grey eyes opened widely, and she raised herself on her tiptoes. 

"I'm building you a cello, yes."

"Is this an engagement cello?"

"Well, no, because this will take me about a year to finish, and I don't want to wait that long to call you my wife."

Arya went back to the wood and traced the grain with her fingers. After a few moments, she looked back to Gendry, with that twinkle in her eye that always excited and worried him all the same. 

"What are you scheming?"

"I'm thinking that I wouldn't be opposed to you having your way with me over it."

"And ruin this beautiful wood? You are out of your mind. I'll have my way with you at home wherever you want, instead," he replied, crowding her, so she had her lower back against the bench. 

"You're so vanilla," she said, tilting her head in preparation for his lips.

"I'm not that boring."

"Yeah? Prove it, tell me the most outrageous thing you'd want us to do in this precise moment."

"Let's get married."

* * *

** Saturday **

Arya could feel butterflies in her stomach.

Though the fluttering inside her had nothing to do with the newly discovered stowaway passenger in her womb.

Or at least, the butterflies were not directly caused by it. 

She felt exactly like that time that she and Bran had broken Robb's favorite action figure, and they had hidden the evidence in the Winterfell woods. When the whole family was sat down for supper, Robb had complained that he couldn't find his prized collectible. Arya had felt her heart beating at a fast tempo, and avoided everyone's stares. She remembered the disdain she harbored towards Bran, who seemed so unaffected during the tense conversation, only to discover, years later, that her younger brother had terrible eyesight. Thus, it was easy for him to feel unaffected since he lacked the intimacy of looking at someone he had personally slighted in the eye and still deny his responsibility.

That evening, though, greeting everyone into their place, she felt both the elation and the dread of letting them all know the secret she shared with Gendry. On the other hand, though, every time Arya and Gendry's eyes locked on each other, it was thrilling to know that they had something marvelous they had made together and that no one else knew. When they took turns taking coats to one of their bedrooms or fetching a drink, from time to time, they would cross paths, and if no one else was looking, Gendry would feel emboldened and ventured running his hand over her still flat belly and giving her a blazing smile. 

By then, everyone knew she wasn't really sick, as she had texted her brothers and answered some of their questions. And Gendry had shared with her his talk with his uncle Davos, including the embarrassing bits. Of course, Davos already knew about the baby. When he had arrived, there had been a twinkle in his eye. He had always been very effusive with her, and this time was no exception when he hugged her, and he whispered in her ear, "I knew all along you'd be my niece."

"It's nice to know you were betting on me," she commented, as they parted. 

"If only my silly nephew had listened to me earlier," Davos said, as Gendry greeted him. 

"You two are going to gang up on me now?"

Arya turned towards him, and challenged him with a raised eyebrow, "when haven't we?"

"If you ever leave him, I'll go with you," Davos declared.

"Thanks for the loyalty, you traitor."

"Don't worry, Davos," Arya added, placing her arm around Gendry's lower back, and leaning into him, "I'm never leaving him."

"I love you too," he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

Arya then turned back to her future uncle-in-law and added with a wink, "I'll just stay with him and make his life a living hell."

* * *

After Davos, her siblings appeared in a staggered procession. Each time the doorbell was rung, Arya found herself squeezed tightly in someone's arms, and the same questions were repeated, asking for confirmation that she was indeed healthy, or at least as healthy as someone in remission could be. 

By the time everyone had already arrived, their small flat was a loud and lively place, with all their combined families standing around the living room and kitchen, even Ygritte, who had finally joined Jon. Gendry had been busy, handing out drinks and being pulled to the side and interrogated to confirm that yes, she was not sick, and yes, he was sure. 

Soon, everybody was either holding a beer, or a glass of wine, except for Talisa, who was having lemonade and keeping an eye on her two-year-old, napping on the sofa.

"So let me get this straight," Robb finally said, tilting his beer towards his youngest sister. "You are still in remission?"

"I am."

"And, Dr. Luwin is 100% sure?" Jon asked.

"He is," Gendry replied, placing his arm around Arya's lower back, and hooking his fingers on the belt loop of the jeans she was wearing.

"What about all your symptoms?" Her sister-in-law inquired, having rejoined everyone in the kitchen.

"Well, it turns out I was, still am, I guess, anemic, and that is why I fainted during rehearsal. Long story short, when I went to A&E, my lab results were abnormal, and I just assumed I was sick again."

After taking a sip from the Malbec she was holding, Sansa added, "and if you had followed up with your oncologist, you wouldn't have made that assumption, would you?"

"I was an idiot, water is wet," Arya was quick to add, rolling her eyes and her sister. "Want to point out any other obvious thing, Sans?"

Instead of biting at the invitation to start bickering, Sansa's lip curled, in that smile of hers that was rare, where she scrunched up her nose, unconcerned about looking silly.

"And, that's it?" Bran asked.

"Well, I am under treatment for the anemia, and Dr. Luwin wants to rule out a potential autoimmune issue that may be causing it."

Rickon looked a bit restless, and Arya suspected he was still reeling from the last time they had all been together. He had always been transparent, easier to read than even Gendry, and she understood his need to change the subject.

"Enough of all of this, what I want to know is why aren't you drinking, we are supposed to be celebrating, are we not?"

Rickon's observation caught Arya unprepared, and she felt Gendry's hand on her hip tensing. Still, she was able to keep herself from turning to look at him and chancing looking suspicious, although, she did catch Davos look, and how he turned away.

"I'm… yeah…," She stammered. 

Gendry cleared his throat and said, "Arya is not drinking right now."

That was it.

The moment of truth.

"Why? Because she's anemic? Really? That's stupid, it's not like she's pregnant!" Rickon yelled mockingly.

Both Arya and Gendry stayed silent and shared a look. 

"Wait, why are you not saying anything?" Sansa asked, catching the way they had stared at each other.

"Arya?" Robb asked with a tilt of his head.

"Gendry?" Jon added.

Arya smiled widely and shrugging, she said, "surprise?"

"You are pregnant?!" Was exclaimed by more than one voice.

"Did you really knock her up on the first try, Baratheon?" Theon asked with a huge smile plastered on his face as he raised one hand. "Nice! Put it here."

"Theon! Don't be crass!" Sansa scolded her fiancé.

Robb turned to Gendry and asked, "ever heard of condoms?" 

"In our defense," Arya chimed in, "I thought I was dying, and to be honest, after radiation, I was sure I was barren, but tell _ that _ to the hyper fertile Baratheon genes."

"Just the Baratheon genes?" Gendry inquired, disbelief evident in his voice." Really? May I point out that your parents had six children?" 

Her sister-in-law laughed and pointed towards their sleeping toddler and her swollen belly and said, "case and point."

* * *

There was quite a lot of talk regarding Arya and Gendry's news, with plenty of questions about the due date, and what it meant for Arya's health. There was a lot of excitement talking about how close in age their baby would be to Robb and Talisa's, and even a joke or two from Theon about how he and Sansa should_ 'get on with it,' _since he wasn't chancing Gendry's kid being his best friend Robb's kid's BFF.

When the talk about their baby lulled for a bit, Gendry gave Arya a look, and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow, confirming that it was the moment for the last card under their sleeve, to which he licked his lips nervously and nodded in agreement.

"There is another reason why we wanted to get all of our family together," Arya announced, leaning into Gendry's chest for reassurance.

"Is there any new information you haven't told us?" Bran asked. "Are you expecting twins? Moving abroad? Been working for MI6 all along?"

Gendry rubbed his jaw and replied, "no, nothing like that. Truth is we've done everything out of order."

He then took Arya's hand in his and added, "I've asked Arya to marry me, and she said yes."

There was a mix of sighs, laughter, and high pitch exclamations, Davos was the first one to hug Arya and say _ 'welcome to the family, darling.' _

Gendry was relieved to have Arya's family embrace him, patting his back loudly. Robb even made a joke about not beating him up for having gotten their sister in trouble now that he was willing to make an honest woman out of her, only for Arya to elbow him and tell him to save the Neanderthal big brother speech.

"So now we'll have two weddings to look forward to," Jon pointed out, as he hugged Arya.

"Not for long," she replied, making Jon and everyone else confused.

"What do you mean?" Her favorite brother asked.

"Well," Gendry offered, "we've applied for a marriage license, and we're counting on Davos getting ordained online today so we can get married now that all our family is here."

"Today?!" Sansa yelled in disbelief.

"Yes, today," Arya confirmed.

Bran threw his arms out and said, "okay, I did not expect that."

"You're happy about it? We could still plan you a proper wedding," Sansa asked her sister, taking her hand in hers, and asking something else without words.

"You have dreamed about your wedding all your life," Arya reassured her. "I don't want to steal your thunder."

"That doesn't mean that you can't have a wedding that you get to plan."

"I never dreamed of it. I never thought I would live to get married, let alone have a child. And to be honest, I've had a reprieve. I thought I was out of time, and I don't want to wait anymore," Arya explained, never letting Gendry's eyes out of her sight. After pursing her lips and curling them into a tight smile, she swallowed and said, "I want to go to bed with my husband tonight."

"Don't put those images in my mind!" Rickon complained with a deep grimace.

"Really, Rickon? We live together, and I'm pregnant. How do you think this happened?" She asked, pointing to her midsection, "magic?"

* * *

After the initial shock, everyone got excited about the impromptu wedding. While Gendry, Davos, and Arya's brothers busied themselves, getting Davos ordained, Sansa, Talisa, and Ygritte took Arya to her bedroom to help her get ready. Sansa was horrified when she heard Arya had planned on getting married in the worn jeans and old Beatles t-shirt she was wearing. She recruited their brothers' significant others to raid Arya's wardrobe for a suitable wedding dress. They found one of her concert dresses, it had been one for a special presentation, cream-colored, unlike her usual concert blacks. Arya had bought that dress because the A-line skirt gave her the freedom to fit her cello between her legs. The silk of the gown felt like water running down her skin, and a delicate gauzy overlay embroidered with flowers rested atop her shoulders, lined with tiny iridescent pearls that looked gold in the afternoon light. 

They let her hair down over her left shoulder, curled at the ends, and gave her eyes a subtle smoky tone. The finishing touch was a natural rose-colored gloss that Gendry thought, once he got to see her, looked the same shade of her lips whenever he kissed her well. 

Gendry had been rendered speechless, and stupid, if he was honest when he saw her come out of her bedroom looking like that. He was compelled to run to Arya to kiss her deeply, one hand on her nape and the other on her hip. Their whole family whistled and cheered, while the girls complained that he was going to smudge her makeup. When they separated, they had grinned at each other, ignoring everyone else, and Arya had wiped the pink gloss from his lips. He then left for his own room to change into something he deemed worthy of the goddess he was about to wed. 

He returned feeling less underdressed, in one of the only two suits he owned, and the only one that was not reserved for funerals. It was the tailored blue suit he had bought for Robb's wedding a handful of years before, and the suit held fond memories of a time when he and Arya had laughed and danced the night away. Then it had been Arya the one who extended her hand signaling for him to join her, and once they were touching and just inches away, she had her hands join behind his neck, and he rested his own around her lower back, pulling her closer. 

"Ahem," Davos exclaimed rather comically, catching their attention. "I didn't spend the last thirty minutes getting ordained online in the… what was it called? Universal Life Church, and putting together this script, only to see you snog, so, could we get this show on the road? I believe we're all starving."

Years from then, they both would try to remember the exact Davos said to get their wedding started, but it would be to no avail. It wouldn't matter, and they would suspect Davos made it up every time he told the story because nothing he recounted sounded remotely familiar. However, the case, the memory of their wedding would be forever known as the most romantic and beautiful moment of their lives, eclipsed only by the birth of their child. 

"I am meant to ask who gives away the bride," Davos mentioned, looking around to the large Stark clan, "but I'm inclined to believe it is everyone in this room."

"That ship has already sailed, am I right?" Theon joked, only to be shushed and receive plenty of dirty looks.

"I am also required to ask that if anyone may have cause to object to the forming of this union, to please speak now or forever hold their peace."

"Don't you even dare, Theon," the bride cautioned him, with her worst death glare, which clearly unsettled the man in question. 

"Moving on, where was I?" Davos continued, squinting a bit while he reviewed the print out in his hand. "It says here _ 'under the eyes of the Universe, together we take a moment to acknowledge the seriousness of the commitment being entered into today.' _What kind of codswallop is this? Listen, you two fools have been dancing around each other for years. I think I speak for everyone here saying that it was about bloody time!"

There were plenty of cheers at that.

"This is the part where you exchange vows, would you like to do your own?"

"I think we can come up with something," Gendry replied, looking at Arya, who smiled and nodded in agreement. 

"Son, want to go first?"

"Yes."

"Then, turn to your bride and speak of your promises."

Gendry held Arya's hands in his as he spoke, "Arya, you are my best friend and the love of my life, and I will forever kick myself because of how long it took me to figure out that last part. The truth is that I met you right in the middle of the shittiest part of my life, and I'm still here all these years later because of you. I can't believe that after all of this, I get to call you my wife. I don't need to promise what you already know, that I will love you for the rest of our lives, and beyond, if I can get away with it.”

"Arya?" 

"Gendry, not too long ago you kissed me for the first time in our kitchen, and you told me_ 'we're best friends, and we already love each other, how difficult could it be to fall in love?' _Well, you were wrong.” 

Everyone's giggles interrupted Arya's vows. 

“The truth is that I think we fell in love long before that. I have been waiting for my death for so long, that when I thought it was around the corner, I acted like it didn't matter. The truth is that what I have really always been afraid of is living. Now, I know that as long as you hold my hand, I know I can do this. So be my husband, and not just my best friend and the love of my life. And I will love you for the rest of my days, and even beyond that."

"It is not a common custom here," Davos continued, "but I was asked by your siblings Arya, to honor the old gods of your family, and fasten your hands together. Would anyone have something for it?"

Gendry quickly undid his navy blue tie, and Davos used it to bound their right hands together.

"Gendry, before men and the gods, do you take this woman as your wife and pledge your love to her for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Arya, before men and the gods, do you take this man as your husband and pledge your love to him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

Davos then unfastened their hands and called for the rings.

"We don't have rings,” Arya started to explain.

"You may not have rings, but I do,” Gendry was quick to correct her.

"When did you get them?”

“I had to cash in some favors, and they're not engraved, but we could do that at some point. You told me of the Northern tradition of marrying in front of a heart tree in the godswood. I couldn't get us that, but I got us these rings that are meant to symbolize the weirwood from Winterfell,” Gendry said, getting two rings from his pocket and placing them on Arya’s hand. Hers was made of delicate branches intertwining together while his ring looked like the sturdy trunk of a tree.

"Please read this to each other, as you place the ring in your beloved's finger,” Davos instructed them.

"I, Gendry Baratheon, give you, Arya Stark, this ring as a symbol of my everlasting love."

After the ring was placed on her finger, Arya took Gendry’s and set it on his.

"I, Arya Stark, give you, Gendry Baratheon, this ring as a symbol of my everlasting love."

"With the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church and Westerosi law, under the eyes of the Universe and all of your family here today, I happily pronounce you husband and wife!”

Their family cheered while they continued to stare into each other’s eyes.

"Gendry, son, you may now kiss your bride."

Gendry pulled Arya to him and kissed her unapologetically, to the catcalls of everyone in the room. The kiss went long and only stopped because both the bride and the groom started giggling against each other's lips. When they finally parted, they both beamed with happiness and pride. 

Arya wrapped her arms tight around his neck, and close to his lips, she said, "fuck cancer."

"Fuck cancer," her husband repeated before she took his mouth in hers once more.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stark-Baratheon!"

* * *

They ended up ordering Braavosi take-out for their wedding feast, and Theon was even able to produce a couple of bottles of bubbly to toast the new husband and wife after making a few calls. They all left soon after they ate and toasted them, able to tell that they were eager to have their own private celebration. As soon as the last of them left, and the door was closed, Gendry was quick to lift Arya bridal style and started walking towards his bedroom.

"Seriously? You're carrying me to bed? Are you sure you wouldn't rather pull me there by the hair?"

"Can I fucking have this?"

"Fine, if you want to be a caveman."

By then, they were already in his room, and after what she said, Gendry let her fall on his bed, startling Arya as she bounced a bit in the process.

"Hello, wife," he said as he climbed on the bed next to her and pulled her closer to him.

"Hello, husband."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Marrying me. I know getting married wasn't high on your list."

"I didn't need a marriage certificate to know this is it for you and me.”

"I know that it doesn't change anything, but my father didn't want to marry my mother, and he didn't want to stick around to get to know me. It means so much to me, that our children will grow up with both of us, and they will know of the promises we've made, and that I will never leave."

"You know, I believe this marriage won't be binding until it is properly consummated."

"Eager much, Mrs. Baratheon?"

"Hopefully, I'm not the only one, Mr. Stark."

"No, not the only one."

Gendry pushed himself off the bed, confusing Arya in the process, but then he extended his hand and helped her up on her feet. She must have been showing her bewilderment, which he addressed, "let's get you out of that dress."

Arya turned, so her back was to him, and Gendry took the end of one of the thin silk straps that were tied at her nape, to keep the sleeves of the coverlet on her shoulders between his fingers, and he pulled the strand, letting it unravel. Arya felt the gauze slid down her shoulders and arms and pooling at her hips. She didn't need to be asked to draw her arms from the delicate lace, and once free, Gendry gathered her hair with his left hand, and pushed it away from her back and neck, letting it spill over her left side to her front. Once her back was bare, he bent to press a kiss in between her shoulder blades, while his hands navigated blindly, until they found the fine silk covered buttons that lined her spine. His industrious fingers started unhooking them one by one, while his mouth was stubborn on its trail of kisses up her back until he reached the crook of her neck. 

A frustrated growl, accompanied the graceless tugs of his large fingers, as he tried to undo each one of the tiny buttons. 

"How do I get you out of this thing? It has hundreds of buttons! What's wrong with a fucking zipper?!"

"It has a zipper… under the buttons."

"Why the fuck?"

"I guess it makes it look more elegant."

"I'm considering ripping you out of it."

"Don't you dare!" Arya cautioned him, turning her head enough, so he knew she was serious. "It was an expensive dress. Just do the top ones, and I can undo a few more on my own, enough for me to shimmy my way out of it."

Gendry went back to his task, giving up on kissing her while he did, as Arya twisted her arms back, undoing a few more buttons around her lower back. 

"I think those are enough, unzip me, please."

Gendry placed a hand on her side, while the other found the tab of the zip. Noticing the extensive boning under the bustier, he said, "that's quite the hardware under there."

"Tell me about it, come on, unzip me so I can breathe again."

He lowered the zipper enough to uncover the fair skin of her lower back with and a bit of the black ink of her tattoo. Gendry had his hand reach under the silk, caressing her naked skin, and revealing her dimples, and barely the hint of her cleft. The movement loosened the dress, and Arya felt it start to slide down, prompting her to hold on to the front against her chest by instinct. 

By then, Gendry was pulling at the fabric, and restarting his endeavor of mapping her back with his kisses, but this time he headed south.

"So smooth," he murmured.

Arya half giggled, and half purred, and spoke, "I guess I should disclose that I didn't shave, so do not expect the smoothness to continue once you reach my legs."

"If you expect that to deter me, you are sorely mistaken."

"Fair enough," she added, and let go of the cloth, letting it fall down by her bare feet. Leaving her wearing a simple pair of silk knickers. 

Gendry let out a growl of approval and turn her in his arms, drawing her to him and kissing her intensely while he embraced her. 

Arya could feel the warmth that he radiated on her bare skin, and her sensitive nipples tingled at the contact with the fabric of his suit jacket. 

"It's hardly fair for you to wear all of this while I'm practically naked," she sighed in between kisses. "Take it all off before you make my nipples chafe."

Arya's hands went under his jacket, and they slid up, pushing it off his shoulders, and pulling it down off his arms, and then she did quick work of the buttons on his white shirt. When his torso was bare, Gendry was eager to touch her, and he pulled Arya by the shoulders, trying to find her lips. She giggled as her hands were busy, freeing him from his trousers. Arya escaped from his grasp to pull down his trousers, taking along his boxer briefs, and letting them pool at his feet. Gendry stepped out of the clothes, his feet still clad in his dark socks. He looked up to a grinning Arya.

"Great, now I look ridiculous, naked, hard, and wearing socks."

Arya snickered, "well, how come it's sexy when a woman is naked and wearing only stockings, hardly fair if you ask me."

"I'll show you fair," Gendry said as he gathered her in his arms again and walked them back to the bed, laying her down and hovering above her. He reached back and ripped the socks off his feet.

"There, now, who's overdressed?"

Arya pulled him down by the neck, so she could capture his mouth, and Gendry rested his weight on his left forearm, leaving his right free to roam down her side, past her hip and around her leg, letting his hand slide up, around her cheek and under her silk underwear. He liked the feeling of Arya's soft skin on his palm and the sleekness of the fabric on the back of his hand.

"How did I not know you owned these?" He asked, pausing the kiss.

"If you wear a silk dress, you need silk knickers, or they'll show."

"Or you could go without," he teased. 

"Are you suggesting I go to work commando?"

"Maybe not, maybe just when I have you all to myself."

"You mean like now?"

Gendry took the hint, and he hooked his fingers on the garment, and he pulled down, but it took time to rid her of them as he did it one-handed. Arya aided his task by shimming her hips side to side. 

Once free of every stitch of clothing, Arya spread her legs to give him space to lie down in between, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to get him closer, his chest against hers, and his face close enough that they were breathing the same air. Arya could feel how Gendry was careful not to let his whole weight on her, but just barely. 

Despite what she had expected, Gendry just stayed like that, nuzzling her face lazily with his nose, and his lips barely brushing against hers. 

"What is it?" Aryas asked, mystified.

"I've never made love to my wife before."

"Well, I'm only your wife in paper so far, and the paperwork is on our dining room table, so not even that."

Gendry raised his eyebrow, "well, I want to see anyone trying to annul this marriage with you showing up to court with my baby in your womb. Not to mention Theon will be called as a witness to testify he found us post-coitus."

"Yeah? I guess we should make sure this marriage is ironclad."

"I like your thinking, _ wife _."

"Yeah, make me," she called, issuing a challenge that he was only too eager to take on. 

They didn't have anything else to say after that, making love without rushing, now sure they had all the time in the world. 

* * *

** A Saturday, 4 years and a half (and some change) later… **

"Arya? Can you please leave that and come sit with your family?"

Her husband's voice distracted her from the task of going around picking up toys and arts and crafts, littering their flat. As she had been tidying up since they had their family visiting, she felt overwhelmed, and once more, she made a mental note to mention to Gendry that it was high time they started looking for a bigger place. 

"I'm just picking this up, so no one trips and breaks their neck," she explained.

"Just come and join us," her sister called, cradling red-headed baby Archer against her chest. 

"Fine," she gave up, setting the toys in her arms on the kitchen counter. 

Arya sat down on the sofa next to Gendry, who had their daughter on his lap, eyeing the small heap of presents on the coffee table with glee.

Arya smiled, running her fingers through the wild black hair of her daughter, her birthday girl, who had chosen to wear a bowling shirt, a tutu, and galoshes as her special outfit for her party, but the gods knew that it was long since Lou had set the rhythm for their band to play.

"We can't open presents yet, darling," Sansa explained to her niece, who eyed her with disappointment.

"But, I want to open daddy's present!" Lou complained, leaning back against her dad's torso.

"We haven't done the cake yet, _ loosie goosie _," her mother admonished.

"I. Want. My. Present!"

"She's just like you, Arya," Jon pointed out.

"Why me? Gendry is the stubborn one."

"I can vouch for that," Davos said, winking.

They had all laughed, despite Gendry grimacing at his uncle's betrayal. 

_ 'We really need to get a bigger place,' _Arya thought once more, looking around at all the people cramped around their living room. Her brother-in-law was squished between Sansa and Davos. Ygritte, her sister-in-law-to-be, was sitting on a stool, with Jon stood behind her. Rickon was on the floor, with his long legs folded, looking slightly uncomfortable. Bran was perhaps the only one comfortable in his own chair, with his girlfriend Meera, sitting on his lap. On the armchair to their left was Robb, rather cramped with his wife Talisa, and their two boys, Eddie and Sage, playing at their feet.

"I can open my daddy's present, right grandpa Davos?" Lou asked him, and it was clear that there was no way the man in question was going to deny her.

"You can do whatever you want, _ sweetling _, it's your birthday after all."

"You're spoiling her rotten," Gendry made a point, looking at his uncle. 

"And you aren't?" Davos challenged him back.

"Okay, you can open _ one _ present before the cake," Arya acquiesced, lifting her index finger dramatically.

"Want to open mine, _ Lulu _?" Sansa asked. "I bet you'll like it, it's your favorite color."

"No, auntie Sans, I want daddy's present first. I can open yours after."

"You're a daddy's girl, aren't you, _ loup-garou _?" Arya pointed out.

"Stop calling your daughter a werewolf!" Her sister called in mock annoyance.

"Stop pretending her name is _ Lulu _," she replied, keeping up the pretend bickering. "Her name is Lou. Not Lulu, not Louise. It's just Lou."

"My name is Lou Stark-Baratheon." The little girl specified.

"That's a mouthful," Rickon quipped.

"And when you grow up, you can be whoever you want to be my_ Lou _ love," her father said, kissing her wild mop of hair.

"I'm going to be a _ loosier _ like you, Daddy."

The whole room erupted in laughter at Lou's pronunciation. 

"Daddy may be loose," Arya japed, "but he is a _ luthier _ by trade, Louie." 

Gendry stared at his wife, but she softened him up with a quick peck on his lips. That was enough to appease him, and he instructed his daughter, "okay, Lou, open daddy's present."

Lou jumped from his lap and grabbed the parcel that she knew was the present Gendry had prepared for her, it was wrapped in wrapping paper depicting different types of electric guitars. Lou declined any offers of help, and her aunt Talisa's suggestion that she may want to be careful so she could save such beautiful paper for arts and crafts. Instead, she tore at it with glee.

"It's a ukulele!" The little girl celebrated, running around, holding the wooden instrument above her head. 

"Yup. Do you like it? Do you like the tattoos?" Gendry asked, puffing up his chest, proud of the motifs carved on the body of the instrument. 

"It's pretty, Daddy," she said, coming to him for a hug.

"You have your own instrument made by Daddy now, _ Ludo _. Like mummy's cello." Arya added.

"Thank you, Daddy," Lou said, and she gave her father a kiss on the lips.

Arya noticed something in her daughter's eyes, and she asked, "I thought you wanted a ukulele, _ Louie _, you changed your mind?"

"It's beautiful," she said and then turned towards her father. "I really love it, Daddy, but…"

"But?" Gendry asked. 

The girl looked down and fidgeted with her fingers until she got enough courage to say, "I want an accordion."

"_ Louie _ baby, Daddy doesn't make accordions," Arya said, kneeling in front of their daughter.

"I'll make it," Gendry answered emphatically. 

Lou turned around immediately, with huge eyes.

"Will you?" 

"If that is what my baby wants, I'll learn to build you an accordion. Do you think I could, my love?"

Lou quickly jumped on her father's lap and hugging him, she gave him a loud kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, Daddy! You can make anything!" 

Gendry stood up, with his daughter in his arms, and he spun her around, making her giggle.

"You do know that an accordion is a completely different type of instrument than the ones Daddy usually makes or that mummy plays, right Lou?" Her uncle Robb pointed out.

"Leave her be, Robb," Arya said, standing up and coming to join her husband and daughter in a hug. "She gets to choose whatever instrument she wants to play. "

"So you would be fine if she decided to be a skater? Or a cheerleader?" Theon asked, teasing them.

"Shut your mouth, Theon!" Arya replied, pretending to be offended.

"She could still do it, you know?" Gendry said, looking at his wife.

Arya sighed, "as long as she's happy."

Lou ended up opening all her presents before they got to cutting the cake. She loved the aqua-colored sundress that Sansa and Theon gave her, one that matched her eyes perfectly. Lou squealed when she opened the collection of whittled animals that her grandpa Davos gave her. And she and her cousins Eddie and Sage had fun playing with all the other toys and books she received from the rest of her family. 

While they were all entertained with the presents, Arya and Gendry stood up to give the cake the finishing touches and bring it out, so their daughter could blow out the candles. 

"You are so whipped," Arya pointed out, wrapping her arms around Gendry from behind, as he busied himself setting four candles over the simple unicorn cake. 

"Yeah? Well, I am pretty sure I was whipped before she even arrived," he replied, turning in her arms to hold her.

"Were you?" She asked, one eyebrow perfectly angled to show her skepticism. 

"What can I say?" He shrugged, "I love you, and I love our daughter. I just have to get used to being outnumbered in our home."

Arya let him kiss her, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the golden opportunity that was just presented to her.

"Well," she said when they parted. "You can always hope I'm carrying a boy this time."

She saw the exact moment her words clicked in his brain, and for a few seconds, his brain function seemed to be halted.

"Arya? Are you…?" He asked, looking at her midsection and getting her closer to him. "Yeah?"

"Yes," she answered with a wide smile.

Gendry crashed his mouth to hers and kissed her so vehemently that she couldn't stop herself from giggling against his lips. After a while, he was laughing as well, and they had to part, but they kept their foreheads together. 

"Let's just keep this to ourselves for a while, yeah?" He asked. "I don't want Lou knowing until we know everything is going well."

Arya nodded, pulling from him enough so she could fully appreciate the happiness on her husband's face, one she was sure was a mirrored image of hers. 

"I want to wait too until we can bring her to see the baby in an ultrasound. And anyway, I like the idea of sharing another secret with you."

"How far along are you?" Gendry asked with his hand on her hip, and his thumb, sneaking under Arya's top to caress the skin of her abdomen.

"I'm over two weeks late, we've been so busy I didn't realize it," she explained, biting her lip and scrunching her nose.

"How long have you kept this from me?"

"Not long. I only realized I was late yesterday when I felt a bit faint, and I took a home test while you and Lou were at the park."

"You knew last night, and you didn't tell me?"

"You were busy giving the finishing touches to Lou's ukulele. I didn't want to distract you. So, I decided to tell you today."

"I love you, you know?" He said before kissing her once more.

"I love you too," she replied. "There's one more thing."

"What else could you possibly say now?"

"I think we're going to need a bigger flat."

Gendry smiled and seemed to think for a moment. 

"Or maybe a house."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. I have to admit that I feel very relieved and accomplished. It may not have been perfect but I like what happened with this one. 
> 
> Thank you once more, and I look forward your thoughts.


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